


The Past is Never Past

by servantofclio



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: possible future Apritello
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-04-17 11:18:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4664604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servantofclio/pseuds/servantofclio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>TMNT 2012 AU. Tang Shen did not die; she chose Saki and took her child to New York. Over fifteen years later, her daughter Miwa, Miwa's friend April O'Neil, and four mutant turtles face the world Shen's choices made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My lovely friend frandayam wanted to see an AU in which Tang Shen chose Saki and fled to New York with the baby, and Yoshi became the vengeful one. This is that AU.
> 
> Here, Miwa grew up in New York and goes to April's school, and she was the one with April when the Kraang attacked (as in "Rise of the Turtles").

“... so they took April!” Miwa finished. 

“The... the pink creatures?” her mother said, looking baffled. 

“Yes! The ones that jumped out of the men in suits! I know this sounds ridiculous, but that wasn’t even the weirdest!” 

“Then what was?” her father asked. 

They were still listening to her, at least; they hadn’t told her she was crazy or obviously making things up. That was the whole reason she’d come home. She should have gone to the police, probably—she’d thought about it, once she was alone on the street, but she’d run home instead. The cops would never have believed her story, and they probably would have thought she was on drugs or something. She’d run, and taken a chance on her parents—Dad was the kind of person who could handle anything, no matter how strange, Miwa was sure of it, and Mom would at least listen—so here she was. 

She took a deep breath. “There were these... things that appeared out of nowhere and tried to fight the men. They couldn’t beat them, but it seemed like they were trying to protect us. They were like some kind of... yokai.” Searching for a description, she settled on that word from her childhood legends. 

Both of her parents stiffened. “That’s absurd,” her father said. 

“I know it is!” Miwa cried. “But they were green and loud and... and they fought with traditional weapons, so I don’t know what else to call them!” 

Her father frowned. Her mother was looking down, so her long hair shaded her face. “Where are they now?” her father finally asked. 

“I don’t know! They disappeared. What can you expect from yokai?” 

“Whatever you saw, it cannot be spirits,” her father said in a tone that allowed no disagreement. 

Miwa sighed and changed tack. “What do I do now? What about April?” They weren’t especially close friends, she hadn’t really known April until this year, but that didn’t mean she could just sit by knowing she’d been kidnapped. 

“You will have to talk to the police,” her mother murmured. Her hands were knotted together. 

Her father nodded. “Yes. The girl is missing, and her father will inform the police, and he knows she was with you. There will be questions. But say nothing about these green creatures, or the pink ones, either. She was taken by men in suits, that is all.” 

Miwa stared at her father, stern and implacable, and then at her mother, her head down and her brow furrowed. There was something wrong here, but then the whole _night_ had been wrong, so... “Okay.” 

Later, after she’d answered all the cops’ questions, she could hear her parents arguing in their bedroom. In Japanese, as if she couldn’t understand. She crept closer to the door, as quietly as she could, to hear more: 

“... what have you been telling her, Shen?” 

“Nothing! Stories, when she was small! It doesn’t mean anything!” 

“Doesn’t it?” Her father’s voice dropped too low for a moment, then rose again: “... right before everything changed!” 

“It still... it still doesn’t mean anything! Miwa said the creatures were protecting them...” 

Her father murmured something else she couldn’t quite catch. Her mother replied, “He wouldn’t. He’s not that kind of man.” 

“Wouldn’t he? Any man might want revenge, after he lost everything he had. I would!” 

“He’s not you, Saki!” 

Miwa crept away, her heart pounding, not sure if she wanted to know what her parents were talking about. 

 

# 

 

Bo, shurikens, grappling hook, shuko spikes for climbing. Infrared scanners, to help him find the stolen girl. An experimental device that would set off a short-range EMP; Donatello didn’t know what kind of technology to expect, but it had to run on some kind of electricity, didn’t it? 

Of course, that still left the problem of finding her in the first place, but if he could track down the van— 

“Donnie. What are you doing?” 

He flinched, hunched protectively over his gear, and shot a glance back over his shoulder. Leonardo stood in the doorway with arms crossed. 

Bad situational awareness, Donatello. He’d have to do better than that if he wanted to do the kidnapping victim any good, especially on his own. “Nothing.” 

Leo said nothing, but radiated a cloud of disapproval. He was obviously not leaving until he had an answer. Donnie fidgeted with the leather strap crossing his chest and tried to come up with some kind of excuse. “Look, it’s not that big a deal, it’s just—” 

“You were planning on going after the girl, weren’t you?” 

Donnie flinched, and Leo sighed. “You know Sensei wouldn’t approve. She’s not part of the mission, not like the other one.” 

“I know,” Donnie said softly. They’d been sent out on a simple mission—just surveillance, on the dark-haired girl Sensei was so concerned with. Follow, watch, report back. That was all. The red-haired girl was only the other one’s friend. They didn’t have any orders concerning her. But then the two girls had been attacked, so he and his brothers had launched themselves into the fray, and there was no logic to only protecting one, was there? And the redhead-- Donnie _remembered_ how her blue eyes looked, how she’d been about to take his hand, and he couldn’t stand that she’d been snatched away right in that moment, when he was distracted for a split second. “But you didn’t see her face, Leo! She was scared, and she was looking to us—to me—to help her, and there’s no one else to help her!” He took in the expression on Leo’s face and gulped. “But it’s okay, I don’t... I don’t want to get the rest of you in trouble, so if you could maybe...” Donnie hesitated. If only it had been Mikey who’d found him. Leo was so serious, so competitive, so obedient to Sensei’s orders. He decided to try anyway. “... not... tell him you saw me?” He tried to smile. 

Leo stared at him, and Donnie wished he could shrivel in place. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Leo said abruptly. “It’s too risky to go alone.” 

Now it was Donnie’s turn to stare, not sure he’d heard Leo right. “What?” 

Mikey popped up from the shadows behind Leo. “You didn’t really think we’d let you go alone, right, bro?” 

This, Donnie hadn’t expected. “Are- are you serious?” 

“Duh,” said Raph, scowling but _there_. “Now come on, if you wanna rescue the girl, you’re wasting time.” 

“We’re a _team_ ,” Mikey said, and Donnie smiled, incredulous. They _were_ a team, they’d been trained that way, but they were a team following _Sensei’s_ orders. 

“So what was your plan?” Leo asked. 

 

# 

 

Splinter waited. 

It had not been difficult to determine that his four students had left, and a simple educated guess as to where they had gone: to rescue the girl, no doubt, Miwa’s friend. A task better suited to the police. 

His ears flattened as he heard entirely too much whispering and shuffling. He reached out to turn on the lights. 

His four pupils froze in place, looking for all the world like guilty teenagers. Splinter felt a twinge at that, thinking of the pictures he’d seen of Miwa; and, after all, they _were_ teenagers, of a sort. 

This, however, was not the time to war with himself, again, about whether these were his sons or his students. 

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked sternly. “Where have you been?” 

All four of them began talking at once, an incoherent mass of sound. Splinter cleared his throat, and they fell silent. “One at a time,” he said. 

Three sets of eyes turned to Donatello. He reddened and ducked his head, but began without stammering, the way Splinter had taught them to give reports. Good. 

“We set out to rescue Miwa’s friend, Sensei.” 

He stopped, and shrank under Splinter’s gaze, eyes falling to the floor. Splinter waited for a moment before prompting: “And did you succeed in your mission?” 

“We did,” Donatello said, with a wary glance at him. 

Splinter nodded. “Report, then.” 

They started, then, one at a time, describing how they had tracked the kidnapper’s van, questioned the man, infiltrated the facility where the girl was held. A successful enough mission, though rashly undertaken. Each of the four supplied details, and Splinter’s whiskers twitched as they spoke of the creatures—alien beings, they insisted—who had kidnapped this girl, for their own inscrutable reasons. Not a chore for the police, perhaps, after all, and it was not as if he had no sympathy for the girl’s plight. And yet. 

“So you revealed yourself to a criminal, these aliens, and this young woman,” he said. 

They all tensed, and Leonardo said, “We did, Sensei.” 

“She needed our help,” Donatello said, without allowing Splinter to ask another question. “No one else was going to help her, Sensei, there wasn’t time, and she needed—she was _counting_ on us.” 

Splinter looked into the earnest brown eyes. The others were all trying not to stare, heads bowed respectfully, but their eyes cutting toward Splinter and their tallest brother. 

Why was it he was not surprised to find Donatello defiant? 

“Hmm,” he said, stroking his beard. They had disobeyed, defied their orders. They had concerned themselves with something that was none of their affair, and risked themselves and their secrecy to do it. They had fought together, admirably enough—Splinter had not missed that they had all gone, although Donatello was the spokesperson. Unusual, and pointing to him as the instigator, as well. “You took a grave risk, and disobeyed me. You know you are not to go out except at my order.” 

Four sets of eyes fell toward the floor, and four sets of shoulders stiffened. “See that it does not happen again,” he said, and watched four heads jerk in surprise. “You will report to the dojo for your training as usual, in—” He glanced at the clock. “—four hours. You will not leave without my permission again. Nor will you contact this young woman—” 

“April,” Donatello said softly. “Her name is April.” 

“—you will not contact this April again.” 

“Hai, Sensei,” they said, but Splinter knew, even then, that it would not be so simple. 

 

# 

 

Saki taught his classes at Bradford’s dojo with less attentiveness than usual. It did not matter, really. These were dilettantes, young men who cared more about pride and “fitness” than about the art. Such men would never have been allowed into the dojo of the clan, in his youth. But they had money, and paid for the lessons they drifted in and out of, and their money put a roof over Tang Shen and Miwa’s heads, so. 

But his mind was elsewhere, thinking of kidnappers and green creatures who could not possibly be spirits out of folk tales, and once his classes were done for the day, Saki avoided Bradford and headed down the street. 

He found the man he sought in his usual dive. “Xever.” 

“Saki, my friend!” The Brazilian’s smile arced white across his face, and he waved to a chair. “Take a seat. What can I do for you?” 

Saki took his chair. He had done a job or two for Xever, jobs that Tang Shen did not need to know about. Xever owed him a favor. And Xever had his ear to the ground. If anyone knew what was going on in this city, it was he. “I’ve heard some curious rumors lately.” 

Xever tilted his head. “Oh?” 

He left Miwa out of it, as best he could. He told the rest of it, more or less. 

Xever took a puff on his cigarette. “Suits. Yes. I don’t know about these green costumes you mention, but I hear about this odd crew in suits. There’s a man who works for them. Snake. I’ll ask some questions.” 

“One more thing,” Saki said. “Have you heard the name... Hamato?” 

“Our past catches up with us, no?” Xever’s smile was sharp. “I have not heard that name, but I shall ask.” 

“Or Splinter,” Saki said, thinking back to the boyhood nicknames they’d given each other. 

Xever breathed in the cloying smoke. “If I have anything, I shall let you know.” 

“Do that,” Saki said. He _would_ keep his family safe, whatever might come. 

 

# 

 

Alone in the house, with Miwa at school and Saki out, Tang Shen had time yet before she must report to her own job at Murakami-san’s. She sought out the flat box in her drawer, the one hidden under bras and underwear and stockings, where Saki would never look. She drew it out and hesitated before opening it, thinking of what Miwa had said. 

Yokai. Once, she would never have believed such things were anything more than legends. But that was before she became involved in the affairs of the last of the ninja clans. And she had thought, hoped, that she and Saki had left all of that behind when they left Japan. New York was modern and foreign and up-to-date, and no place for myths and folk tales. 

But her daughter did not lie—or at least Tang Shen did not know why she might lie about something like this—and Shen herself remembered the yokai. They had frightened her at first, inhuman forms leaping out of the shadows, but then they had spoken, and seemed no more than boys. Strange boys, to be sure, with their green skin and shells and noseless faces, but not so strange, for all of that. They had talked to her and eaten her food and held her baby. 

And they had spoken to her of Yoshi, and she had chosen Saki. 

The truth was, she loved them both, but the more she loved them, the less they loved each other, and Saki was the one who seemed more willing to change, more willing to leave their dojo and their spirit-steeped forests behind. 

Slowly, she opened the box and looked at the photos inside. Herself and Yoshi and baby Miwa. Yoshi and Saki, smiling at each other like brothers instead of rivals. After so much time, Yoshi’s face had grown blurred in her memory. The pictures brought him back to life. 

They were his yokai, were they not? Or at least, tied to him somehow? But after so long, Shen didn’t understand. “What did you do?” she whispered to the photographs. 

Yoshi smiled up at her from the photograph, but did not answer.

 


	2. Chapter 2

April was in school on Monday. 

She tried to dodge Miwa all day, sitting on the other side of the room, avoiding meeting her gaze, the whole works. Miwa wasn’t having it. April had been taken, and now April was back, and Miwa wanted to know why. She finally managed to corner April by her locker right at the end of school, and hissed, “What happened?” under her breath. 

“Harmony.” April’s eyes darted to the side, and she swallowed. “Listen, I’m okay, I just can’t really talk about it.” 

Miwa went by Harmony at school. She didn’t truly mind her Japanese name, not any more, but she still hadn’t forgiven that oaf Casey Jones for chanting _Meeeeeewa_ at her up and down the school halls when they were eight. Sometimes she still wanted to kick the rest of his teeth in. 

“Not good enough.” She slammed a hand into the locker next to April’s. The other girl jumped. “I know what I saw, April. I had to talk to the _police_.” 

“Yeah.” April laughed nervously. “They weren’t too happy my dad called them. I think they might think it was some kind of prank or something.” She stuck out her lower lip and blew upwards, ruffling her bangs, her eyes darting from side to side. “Can we... can we talk somewhere else?” 

Miwa dragged April to the little park halfway between school and Murakami-san’s. April plopped gracelessly into a swing, and Miwa stood in front of her with arms folded. “Okay, O’Neil. Talk.” 

“You saw them?” April asked. 

“I saw a lot of things. I saw those goons that took you. What were those things, anyway? And the—” Miwa hesitated, not sure what to call them. “—the green guys.” 

April’s eyes widened. “You saw the turtles, too?” 

“Turtles,” Miwa said, mulling it over. “Yeah, of course I did. They were right there in the thick of things.” 

April ducked her head. “I guess you would have. Sorry, it was just so confusing...” 

“Start with what happened when they dragged you off.” 

April sighed. “Well, those pink things—I guess they’re aliens or something. They call themselves Kraang. Like, they all call each other Kraang. It’s weird.” 

Miwa frowned. “Aliens?” 

“Yeah.” April shivered, folding her arms around herself. “The place they took me was really weird. I didn’t get to see much of it, because they shoved me in a cell. But then the turtles came and rescued me.” 

“Rescued you,” Miwa repeated, her forehead creasing. “Why?” 

April shrugged. “They said they just wanted to help.” 

“They spoke to you?” Curious, Miwa dropped into the swing next to her. “Did they explain what they were?” 

“They said they were mutants,” April said. “That they used to be ordinary turtles, but something changed them.” 

“Well, that doesn’t make any sense.” Not that _yokai_ made any sense, either, but something didn’t add up here. 

April’s shoulders rose and fell again. “After being kidnapped by aliens, I don’t think I can say that about anything any more.” 

Miwa snorted. “Fair enough. What about how they fought, though?” 

“They said they had a master who’d raised and taught them.” April looked down at the ground. “They said they’re supposed to stay in secret, and I probably wouldn’t see them again.” 

“Oh.” Well, there went Miwa’s plans of getting April to tell her how she could find the yokai – the turtles. Or to follow April if she went to meet up with them again. She chewed on her lip and looked sideways at the other girl. April’s head hung down. “That sucks.” 

“Yeah,” April said, straightening. “It’s like, thanks for saving my life, now good-bye forever! Ugh. And I can’t talk to my dad about it. He would freak out completely. He’s already freaked out enough.” Something buzzed, and she pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Crap, there he is now, I was supposed to text him after school.” April sighed and wiped her eye with the back of her hand. 

Miwa wasn’t good at reassurance, not like her mother was, but she could tell April needed _something_. “If you want, you could come to the restaurant where my mom works and have gyoza,” she suggested. “Tell your dad. It’ll be totally safe.” 

April brightened up right away. “Thanks!” 

Miwa allowed herself a moment of satisfaction as April started texting her dad. Still, though. April was back, but something very weird was going on in the city. 

# 

April looked up from the novel she was reading for lit class to find a new friend request flashing on her chat program. She frowned and was about to block the request—she wasn’t supposed to accept friend requests from people she didn’t know, and this one had just appeared out of the blue—when the username _darwins-shell_ suddenly registered and she froze. 

“Oh my God,” she whispered. 

It had only been a few days ago, but the most terrifying night of her life was already starting to seem like a dream. Stuff like that just didn’t happen in the world April knew. When the men in suits had first grabbed for her, she’d been too shocked to do much. She couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to kidnap her. Her dad was just an ordinary person, and didn’t have the kind of money kidnappers might want. But then things had just gotten weirder and weirder—the men in suits weren’t men at all, and suddenly these green _things_ had appeared out of nowhere to fight them off. She felt bad about screaming now, because she knew they’d just been trying to help her, but at the time she could hardly tell the difference. 

But then they’d _come_ for her, come to rescue her when she hadn’t thought anyone would come, after she’d shouted and banged on the door of her cell until her throat hurt and her arms ached. They’d come, total strangers, and they’d fought for her, and Donatello had _caught_ her when she fell from the helicopter. She still didn’t understand how he’d done it. One moment she’d been falling, and the next she was held in a solid grip, and somehow still falling, and the world had spun and tumbled around her, and when it stopped, she’d been staring into a pair of startlingly earnest brown eyes. 

“I don’t know what to do,” she’d said after they took her home, lingering on the fire escape outside her apartment. “I don’t know what to tell my father.” 

They’d shifted, and looked nervously at each other. “We’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything about us,” Leonardo said. 

Her stomach dropped like a stone. “Oh,” April said, “oh, of... of course. Am I... am I going to see you again?” 

Another swift exchange of unreadable glances, and Donatello said, “I don’t think so. I mean... we’re not really supposed to be here.” 

“Oh,” she said softly. Disappointment wrung the last of the energy out of her, and she just felt exhausted. “Well... I guess... thank you.” 

They’d said their farewells and disappeared as soon as her back was turned. She glanced back, and thought she caught a glimpse of Donatello silhouetted against the night sky, but she couldn’t be sure, so she went in to find her frantic father. 

Since then, it had been almost like it had never happened at all. Except for Harmony, and her questions, and this. 

She hit _accept_ instead of _decline_ , and typed rapidly. 

_redjuniorreporter: Donatello is that you?  
_

_darwins-shell: Hey April!  
_

_darwins-shell: in the flesh  
_

_darwins-shell: well, ha, not really, but you know what I mean  
_

_redjuniorreporter: OMG. I didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again  
_

_darwins-shell: haha, well, I wasn’t sure  
_

_redjuniorreporter: I thought you weren’t supposed to be on the surface  
_

_darwins-shell: well, I’m not  
_

_darwins-shell: just chatting through the lair’s systems  
_

_redjuniorreporter: I don’t want you to get in trouble  
_

_darwins-shell: I won’t  
_

_darwins-shell: what sensei doesn’t know won’t hurt anyone  
_

_redjuniorreporter: if you’re sure  
_

_darwins-shell: I wanted to make sure you’re ok  
_

April bit her lip and felt her cheeks grow warm. He’d cared enough to come after her, and he cared enough to check on her. The thought made the warmth burrow down inside her. 

_redjuniorreporter: I’m ok. no kraang around here, haha!  
_

_darwins-shell: good I’m glad  
_

_darwins-shell: so what are you doing in school now  
_

April stared at the screen. School? He wanted to talk about school? She shook her head almost at once, chastising herself for her thoughtlessness. The ordinary stuff about her life that seemed boring to her was just as exotic and interesting to Donatello. Well, she owed him more thanks than that. If we wanted to know about her boring schoolwork, the least she could do was tell him. 

# 

Raph would have thought it was ridiculous to be so interested in ordinary human stuff like school, but Donnie was fascinated. April’s messages were a window into a whole other world. She was behind him in math and science, it sounded like, even though he was totally self-taught, but even then she got to study with other people, and she had teachers, and everything she did was immensely interesting. 

Mikey would think it was interesting, too. Maybe he could tell Mikey, later on. One of those nights when Mikey had bad dreams and crawled into somebody else’s bedroom. Mikey’d always been fascinated by the surface world, and was most of the reason Sensei restricted their television time. Mikey wouldn’t give Donnie away, either. 

He wasn’t supposed to be doing this, but he ran their electronic security and surveillance systems anyway, so it hadn’t been difficult to set up the chat. He could always pretend he was coding the security system if anyone asked why he was spending so much time on the computer. 

_redjuniorreporter: I have 2 go soon, so dad doesn’t ask questions  
_

_darwins-shell: ok  
_

_redjuniorreporter: I almost forgot to tell you something tho  
_

_darwins-shell: what?  
_

Donnie held his breath. 

_redjuniorreporter: my friend who was with me that night saw you guys  
_

He let the breath out. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but that wasn’t it. 

_darwins-shell: oh, she did?  
_

_redjuniorreporter: yeah she asked some questions  
_

_redjuniorreporter: but I didn’t tell her much, obviously, I ddon’t know anything!  
_

This could be a problem. The dark-haired girl had been their target, the one they were supposed to observe. She wasn’t supposed to see them. Sensei had some kind of interest in her, and he hadn’t told them what it was. If she asked too many questions, that could get them in real hot water. 

_redjuniorreporter: Donatello? are u ok?  
_

_darwins-shell: Donnie, it’s just Donnie. thanks for telling me  
_

_redjuniorreporter: no problem! have a good night!  
_

He disconnected, and took a deep breath. He was going to have to tell someone what April had said, which meant he was going to have to tell someone how he knew. Not Sensei, definitely not, he’d forbidden them from talking to April again. Leo, maybe, but Leo would probably go tell Sensei himself. Or he could try telling Raph, but Raph could be unpredictable. He’d probably yell at Donnie, and he might take it into his head to tell Sensei anyway. Either way, Donnie would get reprimanded and punished and banned from talking to April again, and he hadn’t gone to the trouble of arranging for secret, secure online chat so he could do it only the once. 

No, wait: maybe he was thinking about this the wrong way around. If he played this right, he could suggest the possibility that the other girl had seen them without giving away that April had told him. It was a logical enough conclusion, anyway. They’d been in plain sight during the fight, though they hadn’t spoken to her, unlike April. Yes. Maybe he could just casually mention the idea, plant the seed of it in Leo’s mind, and see where that took them. Keep his own secret safe, at least for a while. 

Raph shouted his name from the other room. “Coming,” Donnie called back, and quickly locked his computer so no one could see what he’d been up to. No one needed to know he’d disobeyed orders again to see how April was doing. 

# 

“Do you have something for me?” Saki asked. 

Xever blew out a cloud of smoke and waved him to a seat at his table. “Not as much as I’d like.” His narrow features twisted. “Nothing on your Splinter yet.”

“He’s not my Splinter,” Saki said sharply. 

Xever chuckled. “Splinter, Hamato, whatever he’s called. If he’s in this city, he’s a ghost.” 

Saki chose not to say that was very possible. Xever did not need to know about clan secrets, even if Saki had left the Hamato clan and its lies behind. He folded his arms. “It’s been a week. You have nothing?” 

“If I had nothing, I wouldn’t have called you here.” Xever set down his cigarette. “It seems our friend Snake has gone missing. No one has seen him since the night you mentioned to me.” 

Saki made a low noise in his throat. Ghosts and shadows and disappearances. Not enough to go on, but that was the way of the ninja. 

“And there’s this.” With a flip of his finger, Xever sent a piece of metal spinning onto the table. 

Saki recognized it before it had settled. The pointed star, emblazoned with an all-too-familiar motif. He set his teeth. The way of the ninja, indeed. He might be a ghost, leaving no trace, but Yoshi was _here_. Yoshi or one of his people. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw white teeth break across Xever’s face in a shark-like smile. “Does this mean anything to you?” 

His reaction had already given him away, Saki knew. He picked up the shuriken, smooth and familiar in his grip. “Yes,” he said shortly. 

“And what might that be?” Xever’s pose was still casual, but his eyes were sharp. 

Saki pocketed the shuriken and rose. The toughs lounging at other tables tensed, but Xever merely watched him stand. “You’ve given me little enough,” Saki said. “Perhaps next time.” 

Xever looked at him for a long moment, eyes narrowed, and then broke out in a laugh. “Someday, friend Saki, I must buy you a drink, or several. Very well, have it your way. I’ll be in touch.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait for this chapter! I ended up needing to think a lot about where the story was going. I think I have a plan now, so I hope it won't be as long a delay until the next update.

"So you failed a simple reconnaissance mission, and you allowed yourselves to be caught again," Splinter said in a cold, controlled voice, hands clasped behind his back. His four pupils, kneeling before him, flinched, heads bowed. "And this time, on _video_?"

"You don't understand!" Raphael protested. "I couldn't let that guy talk to us like that! His insults were so-"

Splinter whacked him on the shoulder with his cane. Hard enough to sting, not hard enough to injure. "I understand that _you_ must rein in your temper. You are ninja. You work in the shadows. You do not react out of mere impulse." He did not miss the exchange of sidelong glances among the four. He had little doubt that there would be more whispering and finger-pointing and pushing if they were younger, or a little less well disciplined. But as it was, they still needed to be _more_ disciplined. They needed to _learn_ , and quickly. This business with the suited men who concealed some kind of robots was disturbing, still more so if they posed some kind of threat to Miwa. Splinter had not yet determined whether that was the case, and he needed his team to investigate. "We must retain our secrecy. Which means that _you_ must find that tape."

Donatello muttered something under his breath. "Speak up," Splinter instructed through his teeth.

Donatello gulped. "I said, there's no tape. Camera phones today rely on flash memory."

Splinter decided to allow the interruption to stand, but said, "Regardless. You must address this problem."

"How are we to obtain the pictures, Sensei?" Leonardo asked.

There were times when Splinter wondered whether he had made the right choice about which of the four should lead the team. Leonardo was obedient, but sometimes too eager to obey. He was not about to change the arrangement now, however. He might have tried Raphael, but he would see the position as a reward, and for now he needed to work on controlling himself.

All four of them were looking at him attentively. How difficult could it be to break into one man's apartment and steal his phone? Did they require direction at every moment? "I do not _care_ how you obtain the pictures," Splinter told them sharply. "Do what you must, and remember you are _ninja_."

They flinched again under his glare and bowed their heads. "Hai, sensei."

#

"All right, we need a plan to deal with that phone," Leo said.

"Easy peasy," Raph replied. "We find that grouch, we beat the grump right out of him, then he's got other things to care about besides us." He slammed one fist against his palm, with a satisfied grin.

Leo gave him a scathing look. "What?" Raph protested.

"Do we really need to beat him?" Mikey asked.

"No," Leo said, "because that wouldn't even _work_. If we hurt him, he's only more motivated to get back at us, Raph."

Raph's expression darkened, and he looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he scowled, crossed his arms, and slouched back in his chair. "Well then, what do _you_ suggest?"

Leo shrugged. "We're ninja, like Sensei said. Let's break in and steal the phone."

"Oohh!" Mikey brightened. "I like being sneaky."

Mikey did like being sneaky, although he had a tendency to get distracted and break silence. Leo still gave him a nod of approval. "We know what building the guy lives in. It shouldn't be too hard to figure out which apartment is his."

"We may not need to actually steal the phone," Donnie put in. He'd been fiddling with his own phone for the whole conversation. Leo had been going to say something about his distraction, but later. But maybe he hadn't been that distracted at all. It was like Donnie to multitask. Now he looked up, bright-eyed. "I'm pretty sure I can wipe all data off his phone if I can get close enough to it. I've been working on something that I think would work."

"How close?" Leo asked. "Could we do it from outside the apartment?"

"We don't even get to break in?" Raph complained.

Donnie shook his head. "I'd still need to be within about two feet, and I don't know if my signal's strong enough to travel through an exterior wall."

"See, bro, we do get to break in." Mikey nudged Raph with his elbow.

"Okay. Still, good job, Donnie."

"What if it doesn't work?" Raph said, a little too loud. "Donnie's whatever device."

Leo shrugged. "Then we steal the phone."

"What if he's already sent the pictures to somebody?"

"I already have my system searching for any such pictures on the internet," Donnie said. "But I bet he hasn't."

"Why not?" Raph demanded.

"Because he said he could get a lot of money for the pictures," Donnie said patiently. A little too patiently. Raph's eyes were narrowing. He hated it when Donnie condescended. Leo wasn't terribly fond of it himself, but sometimes you had to wait and see where Donnie was going. "He'll want an exclusive. He's not going to go putting them up for free if he's trying to get someone to pay for them."

"Makes sense," Mikey said with a sage nod.

"You don't have to be a jerk about it," Raph muttered.

"I wasn't!" Donnie protested, eyes widening, and then hunched his shoulders as both Raph and Leo gave him looks. "Sorry."

"It's okay, you made a good point," Leo said, deciding that Donnie hadn't meant to be superior this time. "So, we go back tonight?"

Donnie nodded. "The sooner the better. He'll find a buyer eventually."

#

"I hope you have something better for me this time, Xever," Saki said, settling into his seat at the other man's table. He frowned in irritation at the smoke.

Xever laughed, regarding him with slitted eyes. "Bold, my friend, considering you have not yet told me that little trinket I gave you last time is."

Saki chose not to respond. Xever quirked an eyebrow. "I know very well it is a weapon, Saki, but the question is, whose weapon?"

"You did not ask me here for this," Saki pointed out. He would tell Xever what he needed to know when it became relevant. There was no need to rehearse the whole history now.

Xever laughed again and settled back in his chair, taking a lazy puff of his cigarette. "Always to the point. Yes. No, this is not about your sharp little toy." His smile sharpened as Saki shifted in his seat – a shuriken was no toy. "It is about those green creatures you mentioned."

"Yes?" Saki did not want to seem too eager, but he leaned forward very slightly, and he knew Xever noticed.

"There is a man who claims he caught some kind of 'kung fu frog' on camera."

Saki scoffed. Xever chuckled, his grin curling at the edges. "My sentiments exactly. The man is clearly a fool."

"So? Do we care what this fool has to say?"

"He may genuinely have something. However – he has proven difficult to negotiate with. He insists on demanding an outrageous sum, without offering any proof of his claims." Xever pulled one of his small knives from his belt, and began idly cleaning his nails with it.

Saki grunted. "So what do you propose?"

"Why—" Xever spun the knife in his hand. "I propose we go take the fool's precious phone. Do you wish to come?"

He wanted Saki as skilled muscle, Saki knew this perfectly well. Xever would also, doubtless, use the occasion to continue needling him about the shuriken. And yet, Saki had now spent days turning over this problem of the yokai in his mind, all while he taught worthless louts some shadow of true martial skill. He could feel the tension coiling in his muscles. A night with a mission, and perhaps a fight on the end of it, sounded like a pleasure.

He gave Xever a thin smile in response. It was all the answer Xever needed.

#

At one in the morning, they were climbing the fire escape to the man's apartment. New York City was not truly quiet, even at this hour, but in the shadows between buildings the black-clad men were all but invisible. Xever tested the window and found that it opened. Sheer foolishness, to leave a window unlocked. Saki's lip curled in contempt, but he froze as his ears caught a fragment of sound, and he reached out to catch Xever's arm. They weren't the only ones here.

"... found it yet?" said someone from inside.

"Quiet," said another, barely above a whisper.

"This is useless," hissed a third, and there was a brief, quiet scuffling noise. Saki might not have heard it at all if his ears weren't sharp, and if he hadn't been directing his attention toward the apartment. He glanced to the side. Xever's eyes glinted, barely visible in the dark, and then he pulled himself through the window in one quick move. Saki followed, swift and silent.

Within, there was movement in the shadows. Something hurtled toward Xever, who was perfectly capable of handling himself. Saki moved to the side, where he could hear the subtle whir of nunchaku just _there_. His opponent was quick, but Saki was quick, too, dodging the light strikes and countering with a solid kick to the chest. He could hear the gasp as the air rushed from the other's lungs and he thumped back against the wall, and then Saki had to dodge again as another came from his left, this one armed with a blade. Fortunately, Saki had come prepared. His lips drew back in a grin as the sword met the bracer he wore beneath his dark wrappings with a dull _clang_. His attacker seemed momentarily stymied, allowing Saki more than enough time to draw his own blade. Steel met steel, then; his attacker was skilled but reckless, reaching for an ambitious second katana, and trying to press, while Saki waited to take the other's measure. In truth, the quarters were too close for their long blades, but he could use the congested space to his advantage. As their blades caught, Saki twisted, and managed to whirl his attacker around, sending him sailing into the one with the nunchaku, who had clambered to his feet.

The crash this time was far too loud. Xever was laughing and his opponent was roaring at the same time, all of it too much. A light came on, and Saki stared at what must the door to a bedroom, now open, where a pale, fat man stood blinking in the light.

"Whaa—" he began, and then his face twisted. "You! You slimy worthless frogs, I'll—"

With a yell, a blur of green and red shot past Saki and bowled the man over. Several other voices shouted at once, unintelligible. Saki stared at the squat green thing that had just charged into the bedroom. Another rushed past him, though it seemed to be trying to grab its fellow. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see two more, the two he had just hurled into each other. He turned his head just enough to take a better look.

The yokai. Green, smooth heads, bizarre shelled bodies, colored masks, white eyes. Just as they had been in Japan, nearly sixteen years ago. Time seemed frozen as he stared at them, even as he heard the scuffle continuing in the man's bedroom, with the white man wailing about his rights.

Behind Saki, Xever, let out a burst of laughter. "And who are these freaks?"

The green faces in front of him flinched. Before they could move further, Saki lunged and seized a green shoulder, thumb digging into the pressure point. It felt like any human shoulder, and the pressure point worked the same, too; the creature twisted and shoved ineffectually at him with the other arm.

"Who are you?" Saki snarled in Japanese.

It blinked, eyes suddenly shifting from white to blue. Wide, startled eyes, too human. Too young.

"Guys!" it called in English. "We've got to get out of here!"

The voice was young, too. Young and frightened, though it was trying not to show it. But Saki had faced down plenty of youths before.

"Let go of him!" another voice cried, and Saki flinched under the bruising impact of the nunchaku.

He was the fool now, to take his eyes off any opponent. He had to release the one he held to defend himself from the spinning weapons' blows.

"Go _on_ ," said the one with the swords, bending to retrieve his dropped blade.

"I'm calling the police!" screeched the apartment's owner, still unseen within the bedroom.

That was that. Saki would not wait for the police to come. "Xever!" he called sharply.

"I hear!" Xever appeared from behind Saki, delivering a rapid series of kicks to Saki's attacker. Freed, Saki took one step toward the other one, who braced defensively, and hissed in Japanese, "Stay away from my daughter."

There might be a spark of recognition in the too-young eyes, but the mouth firmed. Saki, ignoring him, sprang toward the window, just behind Xever, and they slid down the fire escape.

Yokai. But flesh, not spirit, skin and muscle and nerves, just like anyone. And young, somehow.

_How?_

#

"We have to get clear of here, the police are coming—" Leo said.

"He wasn't calling them on _that_ phone," Donnie replied.

Leo took a breath. His heart was still pounding. It had been enough trouble to get them all out of the apartment in the first place, after the other two men had appeared. He and Donnie had had to haul Raph off the man with the phone with all their strength. "Then you got it?"

Donnie nodded, smiling a satisfied, slightly superior smile. "It's taken care of. He won't be sending any pictures to anyone."

"Then we can go _back_ there and teach that guy a lesson," Raph growled.

"No," Leo snapped. "We did what we came for." Raph bared his teeth at him, but stayed, much to Leo's relief. They'd been seen _again_ , and Sensei wasn't going to be happy about that.

"Those other guys saw us, though," Mikey said anxiously. "Who were they?"

Leo shook his head. "I don't know."

"They might have been there for the phone, too," Donnie said thoughtfully. "If the owner has been trying to shop it around..."

It made sense. Leo nodded, with a grimace. His neck and arm still ached from the pressure point. That man had been as skilled as Sensei, which was a little scary.

"What'd that guy say to you, Leo?" Mikey wanted to know.

All of his brothers were looking at him. Leo grimaced, his shoulders tightening. "Something about his daughter, that's all."

#

Maybe it was luck that Miwa heard the door open and shut, and the click of the lock.

But then again, maybe it wasn't. Her father hadn't been home all night, after all, and that was weird, weird enough that she'd tossed and turned in her bed and woken up several times. Mom had been out late, too, but there was nothing unusual about that. She often had to close up the restaurant with Murakami-san at late hours. Miwa had heard her come home, too, around midnight, and had gotten up to say hi. Mom had shooed her back to bed, of course, and hadn't seemed too disturbed that Dad was still out.

A late class at the studio, he said. But when she heard the click of the lock and the soft footsteps going into her parents' bedroom, Miwa reached out and grabbed her phone from her desk and flicked it on. Almost 2:30 in the morning. There was no way any class had gone that late. Where the hell had Dad been? Out partying with Bradford or something? That didn't seem like him.

She frowned in the darkness and rolled out of bed. She waited with an ear to the door, but she heard nothing more than the sounds of deep breathing coming from the other room. As quietly as she could, she crept barefoot down the hallway, using her phone as a flashlight and avoiding the one squeaky spot next to the bathroom door. She wasn't even sure what she was looking for, just any clue at all about what her father had been up to this late.

But there was nothing in the living room or kitchen. She swung her phone's light back and forth, but couldn't see anything out of place. Everything was where it usually was, even her father's black duffel bag by the door, where he left it when he wasn't carrying it to work.

Miwa paused, shining the light on the bag. Dad must have had it with him tonight, because it hadn't been there earlier in the evening. She'd never poked around in his bag before, but she only gave it a moment's thought before she crossed the room and dropped to her knees next to it and unzipped it.

It was full of clothes, mostly. Black gear, and under it the white he normally taught classes in. A couple of practice weapons, wood and foam, lending weight to the bag. All pretty ordinary. Miwa patted around the inside of the bag, searching for something unusual. She caught the outline of something hard in an inner pocket and reached in, flinching when she found a sharp edge. She pulled the object out anyway.

It was a shuriken. She'd seen them before – her father had taught her how to throw them a few months back – but his were all plain ones. This had something etched into the side, some kind of flower. Miwa took a quick glance over her shoulder, but the rest of the apartment stayed quiet. Quickly, she switched her phone to camera mode and snapped a couple of pictures of the symbol. Then she stuffed the shuriken back where she'd found it, zipped everything up, and made her way back to bed.

It wasn't much, but it was something to work with.


	4. Chapter 4

_redjuniorreporter: so I've been thinking_

_darwins-shell: I hear that's a dangerous pastime_

April smiled at the screen of her laptop. "I'm not taking up too much room, am I, Mr. Murakami?"

"Oh, no, April-chan, not at all. You are always welcome here."

"Thank you," she said, taking a sip of her tea. She was developing a taste for it, the more time she spent here. Her father didn't like her to be at home alone after school any more. Her dad was funny that way – he'd always been protective, ever since her mother died, and that was long enough ago that April's memories of her mother were blurry and faded. But at the same time, he'd always encouraged her to get to know the city. She knew how to get around on her own, and she was used to being independent these last few years. All that had stopped with her "disappearance." Even though she'd told him it must have been some kind of mistake, and she hadn't told him about the Kraang or the turtles at all, he didn't like her being alone any more. He insisted that she check in as soon as she left school, and he was much happier if she stayed somewhere public like the school library. Or here in the restaurant, like Harmony had suggested. Harmony's mom was usually here, and there was Mr. Murakami, who was super nice, and Harmony usually came by, too, although she hadn't come with April after school this time. It made April feel self-conscious to take up space in a working restaurant, so she usually tried to buy _something_ , but somehow her tea would last all afternoon. The restaurant never seemed to be busy in the afternoons, anyway. And if the wi-fi cooperated, she could even manage to chat with Donnie sometimes.

_redjuniorreporter: so what if I started trying to collect weird stories about the city_

_darwins-shell: what for? the school paper?_

_redjuniorreporter: no, silly! I mean like Kraang stuff_

_redjuniorreporter: somebody has to have seen weird guys in suits at least. or the pink squishies themselves_

_darwins-shell: huh, probably! that's a good idea!_

April's cheeks turned warm at the sentiment.

_redjuniorreporter: I could see if anyone knows anything about you guys, too_

_darwins-shell: I don't know if that's such a good idea_

_redjuniorreporter: why not?_

_darwins-shell: it might be bad to start rumors_

_redjuniorreporter: not start them, just see if there are any_

_redjuniorreporter: discreetly, like!_

She waited for a response, tapping her fingers on the counter.

_redjuniorreporter: Donnie?_

"April, how are you?"

April startled so hard she nearly fell off her stool. She had to fight the urge to slam her laptop shut as she turned to face Harmony's mom. Doing that would look really guilty, though, and it wasn't like she was doing anything wrong. "Hi! I mean fine. I'm fine, um... " She trailed off, suddenly realizing she only knew Harmony's mom as "Harmony's mom."

Harmony's mom smiled kindly at her. "I am Tang Shen."

That didn't entirely help, since April wasn't sure whether the family name came first or last. She smiled and nodded, instead. "Thank you for letting me stay all afternoon."

"It's no trouble." Tang Shen glanced to the side. Mr. Murakami had gone into the back room; April could hear him singing to himself, though she had no idea what he was checking on back there. There weren't any other customers in the restaurant. Tang Shen added gravely, "Miwa told me what happened that night."

"Oh! She did?" April could have kicked herself. Why hadn't it occurred to her that Harmony might have talked to her parents?

Tang Shen nodded. "Yes. She said... well, she could not tell the police the whole story. But she told us about the pink creatures, and the green creatures that fought them."

"Oh." April's eyes darted to her laptop screen. She could see several new lines of text, and it was an effort to return her gaze to Harmony's mother. "Well, I... I know it sounds ridiculous..."

"It is all right," Tang Shen said. "I thought perhaps... I did not know if you had spoken to your father, and since Miwa said you had no mother, I thought I would say, if you would ever like to talk about it, I will listen."

April blinked. "Oh, I... thank you." She said the words more fervently than she'd meant, with a sudden rush of gratitude. It was so _nice_ of Harmony's mom to say that. She didn't owe April anything, really, but it meant more than April had realized that there was an adult who knew the truth.

Tang Shen smiled. Her hands fiddled with the apron she wore. "Have you seen the creatures since? Or spoken to them?"

April stole another quick look at her screen. "The pink ones? or the green ones?"

"The green ones."

"Honestly, I don't want to see the pink ones again," April said, forcing a laugh. "The green ones... um..." She was supposed to keep the turtles' secret, so she hesitated, torn between confiding in Tang Shen and lying. She settled on saying, "I haven't seen them." That was even true.

"Oh." Tang Shen's shoulders slumped, just a little, and April had the sudden unmistakable sense that she was disappointed. "Perhaps that's for the best."

April shrugged, feeling guilty for the half-truth. "They were trying to help me. I'm sure they wouldn't hurt me."

"Miwa said they were yokai. Creatures out of Japanese legend."

"Really? I just thought they were turtles," April said.

"Turtles," Tang Shen repeated. Something changed in her face, April wasn't quite sure what, but she had a sudden strange sense of dread. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything; maybe she'd already let slip too much. She managed a tentative smile.

Tang Shen smiled back. "I am sorry. I hope I have not disturbed you, April. I'm sure you may trust your instincts. These creatures helped you, after all."

April exhaled in relief, her tension ebbing. "I usually have a pretty good sense of whether I can trust people or not, and it wouldn't make sense for them to hurt me after saving me, would it?"

"No," Tang Shen agreed.

The door opened and a middle-aged man came in before she could say anything more, and Tang Shen hurried off to see to the customer. April let out a breath and turned back to her screen.

_darwins-shell: maybe you're right_

_darwins-shell: I'm just using to staying secret_

_darwins-shell: April? everything ok?_

She hurried to reply that she was fine, just talking to someone for a moment. Given Donnie's nerves, maybe she'd better not say what about.

#

Miwa was almost sure someone had been following her.

It was no one thing. More like a bunch of little things. Shadows, and things she half-saw out of the corner of her eye. One time she happened to look up and thought she saw something dark flying from one rooftop to another. Most of all, there was a sense of being watched, a certain prickling on the back of her neck that said there were eyes on her.

It was only some of the time, though. She noticed it most on quieter streets, and in twilight hours. It should have frightened her, probably, the sense that she was being watched and followed, but instead it just made her angry. She wasn't sure the watching eyes meant her harm at all – if they had, they could have come after her by now – but she hated the sense that they knew things she didn't, that they had an interest in her, but she wasn't allowed to know who they were. Her father had secrets, and her friend had been attacked by monsters, and Miwa was tired of not knowing what was going on.

Today, walking to the restaurant as the buildings started to cast longer shadows across the street, she wasn't sure they were there. She hunched her shoulders inside her jacket and cast a surreptitious look upwards, but she didn't see anything more unusual than pigeons.

Her mom was busy with a customer when she entered. April sat at a corner, peering intently at her laptop. Miwa sauntered over and slid into the seat next to her. "Hey."

April yelped, reaching to close her laptop, but hesitating when she recognized Miwa. "God, Harmony, I didn't even hear you come in."

"I'm sneaky," Miwa said with a smile. She glanced over, but her mom was on the other side of the room, well out of earshot. "Hey, listen. Do you ever feel like someone's watching you?"

April's eyes widened. "What? No! I mean, I don't think so..." Her eyes darted around. "Except now I kinda do."

Miwa snorted. "Not now. I mean, when you're out on the street or something, you never feel like..." She trailed off, not sure how to say what she meant.

April shook her head, biting her lip. "Do you think those Kraang things are still out there?"

"Maybe." Miwa pulled her phone out of her pocket and set it on the counter.

"Why are you asking?" April whispered.

"No reason." April's laptop made a quiet beep. Miwa glanced at the screen. "Who are you chatting with?"

"Just a friend," April said, a little too quickly.

"Uh-huh." Miwa didn't believe her for a moment, but she didn't want to call April on it right now, not with Mom swinging by to smile and pour her a cup of tea on her way. She took a sip and made a quick decision. "Hey, April, can you help me research something?"

"Sure." April looked relieved. "What is it?"

Miwa brought up the pictures on her phone and scrolled through, keeping half an eye out for her mother. April frowned, peering at the pictures. "What is that?"

"It's a shuriken. I just don't recognize the symbol, and I wondered if it meant anything."

"Huh, let's see. If you send it to me, I can do an image search and see if anything matches."

Seconds later, they were both peering at April's laptop as the screen flooded with results. Most of them useless results. Clip art, tattoos, stylized flowers that didn't quite match. "There's not much here," April said, scrolling. "Flowers, stuff from games, legendary ninja clans..."

"Wait," Miwa said. "Go back to that one."

April obligingly clicked on the link, but she looked skeptical. "I thought ninjas were just from movies and stuff."

"No, they were a real thing," Miwa said, absently skimming through the page.

"Really? Because this stuff sounds—"

It was all pretty breathless stories of the old ninja clans, Miwa had to admit. She didn't know how much of it was true and how much was crap. If the ancient ninjas were supposed to be so secretive, how would some random guy on the internet know this stuff, anyhow? The guy had to be some obsessive nerd sitting in his bedroom gathering up every scrap he could find. "Come on, April, you got kidnapped by pink aliens and rescued by mutants, and you're gonna balk at this?"

April turned pink. "You've got a point. So is that an antique that you took pictures of, or something? It looked new, but... wait, let me see that again."

"Sure." Miwa handed April her phone while she skimmed over the article. Random Internet Guy seemed to have some useful stuff. There were names of the clans, and some pictures, from old Japanese art, one of which showed a stern-looking man wearing a floral emblem like the one she'd found. _Believed to be a ninja of the Hamato clan_ , said the caption. Miwa filed the name Hamato away. Maybe she cound find more information, better information, with that.

"Harmony," April whispered.

"What?"

April was staring at the picture on Miwa's phone, her lips pressed tight together. "I think... I think I saw the turtles using something that looked like this. I didn't get a good look at them, though..."

"It's okay," Miwa said, and hastily grabbed and pocketed the phone as she saw her mother coming over.

"Now that I have a minute, how was your day?" Tang Shen said with a warm smile.

"Fine," Miwa replied automatically, her mind racing. The pieces fit. She remembered how the turtle things had fought, and their weapons. But that didn't explain how they'd learned any of it, and what connection they had to the ancient Hamato clan.

And most of all, it didn't explain why her _father_ had the shuriken.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 

“What are we even doing out here?” Raph groused, crouched on a rooftop like a gargoyle. “It’s a school night, Miss Princess is probably safe in bed by now.” 

“Sensei said we could patrol in search of the Kraang,” Leo said. “To practice our skills.” As far as Leo was concerned, any excuse to get out of the lair and working together was good enough. At home, it was far too easy for the four of them to go their own ways in what little down time they had. Donnie had practically been glued to his lab lately, for one. Raph was less restive and aggressive if they went out more often, and Mikey... well. Mikey spent a lot of time in his room, or bugging one or another of them. Besides, if they did well, maybe Sensei would loosen their restrictions a little. If they could just show him what they could do, impress him enough, everything could get easier – more responsibility, less punishment. Leo wasn’t the only one still bruised and sore from that morning’s training session, when he’d chastised them for inattention and sloppiness. 

Raph grumbled something under his breath. Leo shot him a sideways glare. Raph was always wanting more freedom and responsibility, why didn’t he understand that they had to _earn_ it? 

“C’mon, bro,” Mikey said to Raph. “If we find them, you’ll get to hit them, and you like that.” 

“True.” Raph seemed to perk up a bit at that thought. Well, whatever it took. 

The harmony only lasted a moment, as they made their way along the next block in a series of leaps. Raph stared down from the corner of a building and scowled. “We’re not gonna find those blobby little creeps just wandering around looking for them, though.” 

He was probably right, though Leo hated to admit it. They were supposed to report back in about forty minutes, which limited how much they could explore.

Donnie cleared his throat. “I might have an idea about that.” 

Leo turned to stare at him, Raph and Mikey following suit. Donnie made a nervous smile in their direction. Leo found himself growing suspicious, for no particularly good reason. 

“Well?” Raph demanded. 

“I’ve, ah, been looking on the internet for any stories of unusual activity.” Donnie fiddled with the strap crossing his chest. “I figured if anyone else had seen the Kraang, they might have posted somewhere about it, so I set up a program to search for appropriate strings—” 

“We get it,” Leo interrupted. “Have you found anything?” 

“Most of it isn’t exactly actionable,” Donnie said. “A few sightings here or there, but no real pattern to them. But while I was doing that, I discovered there have been a number of unsolved disappearances lately, and there is a pattern there. They’re mostly scientists.” 

“What makes you think that has anything to do with the slugs?” Raph demanded, arms folded. 

“Yeah...” Mikey added, more hesitantly. “That girl wasn’t exactly a scientist, right?” 

Donnie shook his head. “No. I still haven’t made sense of that. I don’t know, but I thought it might be a clue.” 

“Maybe,” Leo allowed. It was something to go on, at least. Possibly a chance to do some good, even if it wasn’t related to the strange little aliens. “We’re supposed to report back to sensei within the hour, though. We can check out your lead tomorrow night.” 

Raph groaned. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?” He made to punch at Donnie’s shoulder, but the latter dodged. 

“I didn’t figure out the pattern until today!” Donnie protested. “And I wasn’t, uh, I wasn’t exactly acting under orders.” 

“It was a good idea, though!” Mikey’s blue eyes shot toward Leo. “It’ll be all right, right Leo?” 

After a beat, Leo agreed, “Right.” First with rescuing the girl, and now with this, Donnie had been taking the initiative lately. To be honest, Leo was a little envious. It was working out so far — Master Splinter hadn’t come down nearly as hard on them for going after April as Leo had expected — but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be angry about pushing their limits. 

“I hope so,” Donnie murmured. He pulled at his strap again. “Listen, Leo... guys... do you ever wonder about the girl? Not April. The other one.” 

“Our charge? What about her?” Leo said. 

“Do you think she... notices anything? We were right in the street fighting when they kidnapped April, and...” Donnie trailed off, his face scrunching up. 

They were all silent for a moment. “No,” said Raph eventually. “All that confusion, she was probably freaking out. I bet she doesn’t remember much.” 

“Maybe,” Leo allowed. He wasn’t sure if she’d gotten a good look at them, himself. Things had happened a little too fast. 

“Maybe? You know I’m right, Leo, just admit it.” 

“I don’t know anything,” Leo said. Raph growled at him. Donnie sighed and rolled his eyes. “If she did see us, she hasn’t done anything about it,” Leo pointed out, reasonably enough. 

“That we know about,” Donnie muttered. 

“She didn’t see anything!” Raph insisted, having committed himself to this idea. 

Raph might even be right. What worried Leo more was that he sometimes got the sense that she knew someone was following her. The way she stopped in the street, sometimes, or took a sudden unexpected turn like she was trying to shake them. It was never anything obvious, but it made him uneasy. 

“What about those other guys?” Mikey piped up, just as Leo was tuning out Raph and Donnie’s low-voiced bickering with each other and starting back for home. 

“Which guys?” Donnie asked. 

“The ones who broke into the apartment that we were breaking into. ‘Cause those guys were kind of tough.” 

Raph snorted. “Nah, we could take them.” 

_Maybe_ , Leo thought again, remembering the one who’d struck him – struck him hard and precise, the way sensei did – and hissed a warning at him. “Well, we haven’t seen them lately, either,” he pointed out. 

“I hope we don’t run into them again,” Mikey muttered. 

Leo gritted his teeth, put on a burst of speed, and jumped for the next building. He’d told Master Splinter about encountering the men, of course, but he’d glossed over the details, including that last unsettling warning. It would only have made Sensei upset, possibly upset _with Leo_ , and he hadn’t wanted to risk it. Besides, what difference did it make, really? 

He also hoped they wouldn’t see those particular opponents again, though. They were formidable enough to put him on edge. Though by this point, the whole situation did.

 

#

 

Tang Shen lay awake in her bed, trying not to look too often at the clock. She already knew the hour was late. 

She already knew her husband was not in his place in their bed. Or in their home at all. 

That had been happening more often of late. Ever since Miwa had come home with that story about her friend and the aliens and the yokai, the tranquility of their life together had been strained. Saki had always been a man to keep his own counsel, and there was nothing wrong with that, but in the last weeks he had grown more taciturn, quicker to anger. He had apologized after snapping at her over breakfast, with genuine remorse, but the fact remained that he had done it. He had spoken sharply to Miwa, too, about homework negligently done. More sharply than would be ordinary. 

But, worst, he had been staying out late. Where or with whom or what he was about, Tang Shen did not know. He had bruises, some mornings. It was not unusual for him to sport such, after a challenging class or sparring with Bradford, but she suspected some of his marks came from whatever his nocturnal activities were. 

She was losing him, she thought, dread threading cold fingers through her ribcage. When he was young, he had had a cold kind of temper, and had taken too many problems as personal slights. She did not want him to become that again, not after being her calm and steady husband these last fifteen years. 

She heard the faint click of a door opening and shutting. Tang Shen frowned. It was too close, to be the apartment door. She listened harder, and thought she heard a soft tread, a step much too light to be Saki’s. 

She sprang from her bed and flung her bedroom door open. Storming toward the living room, turning on lights as she went, she found her daughter dressed in jeans and a black shirt. “Where do you think you are going at this hour?” Tang Shen demanded. 

Caught off guard, Miwa was the picture of guilt: eyes wide, shoulders hunched. “Dad’s not home,” she said, as if that was explanation enough. 

“I am aware,” Tang Shen said curtly. “I am also aware that you have school tomorrow. What do you think you are doing?” 

“Looking for him!” Miwa cried, flinging her arms out. “Come on, Mom! Something weird is going on! Someone tried to kidnap my friend, and then there were those green yokai things, and now Dad’s acting weird! He has to know something about what’s going on, don’t you want to know, too?” 

Tang Shen’s lips tightened. “You are sixteen.” 

“Almost seventeen,” Miwa muttered. Her mouth fell into a sulky downward tilt. 

“ _Sixteen_ ,” Tang Shen repeated. “To seek out your father in the dead of night is not for you. Your father is a grown man,” _and a ninja_ , she added to herself, “and can take care of himself. You are _not_ to be out alone at night—” 

“I can take care of myself, too!” 

Tang Shen’s eyes narrowed at the interruption. Miwa stared back for a long moment. Then her chin dropped just the slightest bit toward her chest. 

“Go to your room,” said Tang Shen. “Sleep. I will take up this business with your father.” 

Miwa’s eyes flashed. Her lips trembled and pulled down. “What if he won’t tell you anything?” 

“These are not problems for you to solve,” Tang Shen said. “Leave them to adults.” Her heart thumped in her chest. She remembered being almost-seventeen, and she doubted advice like this would suffice, but she desperately hoped that Miwa would listen and do as she said. 

Miwa’s hands closed into fists at her side, but her eyes dropped after a weighty. “Fine,” she muttered. 

Tang Shen stepped aside so that Miwa could stalk back to her room. “Do not be going out your window, either,” she called. 

“I won’t!” came Miwa’s voice after a startled second. 

Tang Shen took a deep breath. After a moment’s thought, she sat in the living room, turning off the overhead light but leaving one lamp on. 

Miwa was right that something was wrong. Tang Shen had brought her daughter here, halfway across the world, to give her a chance at a normal life, away from the burden of being one of the last surviving remnants of the Hamato clan. And yet, strangeness had found them nonetheless. April O’Neil was a nice enough girl, but Tang Shen could think of no reason for anyone to kidnap her. Pink creatures, and green yokai creatures – turtles, April had said. None of this was normal. Part of her wanted to warn Miwa to stay away from the red-haired girl, but she could not bring herself to do it. Not only would Miwa refuse, but Tang Shen hadn’t the heart to abandon the motherless girl. 

She waited quietly, idly flipping pages of a magazine to pass the time, before the door opened and Saki came in. 

He started when he saw her, looking for a moment as if he were the guilty child caught sneaking out on a school night. Tang Shen decided to take advantage. 

“Where have you been?” 

He hesitated, dropping his bag by the door and closing it behind him. “Out. Making a circuit of the neighborhood.” He came in and sat down, looking at her warily. 

Tang Shen caught a faint whiff of cigarette smoke clinging to him. Her nose wrinkled. “What have you been doing?” 

He spread his hands. “I am trying to protect our daughter.” 

“Is she in any danger? It was April who was taken, not Miwa.” 

Saki acknowledged that with a low noise. “And yet. Matters may be more complex than they seem.” 

“How? Talk to me, Saki. Explain why you are out at all hours, and how this protects our child. If you fear for her, should you not be here, by our side?” 

He shook his head, a short, abrupt movement. “I cannot explain. Let me take care of it, Shen. I promise you, I will not let anything happen to her.” 

“She was going to go out tonight in search of you,” Tang Shen spat, frustrated. “Think what could happen then!” 

He inhaled audibly, eyes growing wider. “No. She must not! I will speak to her, and make sure she understands—” 

“ _I_ spoke to her already.” Tang Shen took a breath to contain herself, irritated at the assumption that his word as father was stronger than hers as mother. She narrowed her eyes as she looked at Saki, sitting there with that stubborn look on his face, avoiding her eyes. She struck, certain she had found her target. “You think this has something to do with Yoshi.” 

“How not?” The bitterness in his voice made her flinch. “Who else has motivation? And these green creatures, they are no spirits, Shen.” 

“How do you know that? And what have they to do with Yoshi?” 

“I have seen them, they are creatures of flesh just like any of us.” He rose and moved toward the door, and her throat swelled, furious with the thought that he might simply walk out again, but instead he bent to retrieve something from his bag and came back, reaching for her hand. He said, “As for their connection to Yoshi...” and placed a piece of metal in her hand. 

She recognized the shape of it immediately, and when she opened her fingers, the Hamato symbol stared up at her from her palm. “There are others in the clan,” she said after a moment. 

Saki scoffed. “Please, Shen. I know you wish to think the best of everyone, but even you cannot believe anyone but Yoshi sent them. They are ninja. They fight in our style, for all they are freakish.” 

“You fought them,” she whispered, and remembered again the yokai that had visited her so long ago. So much like boys, smiling and earnest and playing with her baby; they had had good hearts, whatever else they were. “Did you hurt them? Saki...” 

He growled under his breath. “I told them to stay away. I don’t know where Yoshi got them, but I don’t care if he summoned them up from hell itself. They will not take our daughter.” 

Tang Shen’s head whirled. When Saki held out his hand, she reluctantly returned the shuriken. “Saki, there is too much here we don’t understand. They helped the girls before, protected them from those other things. Perhaps they mean no one any harm. Please don’t do anything rashly—” 

“Don’t be naive, Shen. Think what you like; I will do what I must.” He returned the shuriken to his bag. 

Tang Shen said nothing as he strode down the hall to the bathroom. She clasped her hands in her lap. She had tried speaking to April before, but somehow she must speak to the yokai herself, and soon, before someone got hurt.


	6. Chapter 6

Leo had learned through experience (and the occasional application of Sensei’s withering tongue) that Master Splinter preferred reports to be presented evenly, neutrally, beginning with a concise summary and continuing through details as Sensei deemed appropriate. The summary was simple enough: their night’s patrol had found no signs of the Kraang. But Leo added his observations of how the team had worked together (leaving out Raph’s grumbling), and cautiously mentioned Donnie’s idea about the missing scientists.

Splinter made a noise in his throat, as Leo waited, head bowed. “A promising angle,” Splinter said after a moment’s consideration. “And do you think it best to pursue it?” 

Leo glanced up, startled, and quickly directed his eyes back to the floor. “I, ah. I think we stand a better chance of finding something that way than we do just patrolling. The chances of us happening to come across them again don’t seem nearly as good.” 

“Indeed,” Splinter said. “It is always better to have a trail to follow. Only take heed of two things.” 

He stopped. Leo bit the inside of his cheek, wondering whether he was supposed to ask a question, or venture to guess what the two things were. He cast about in his mind. “We’ll have to be cautious of the humans’ law enforcement.” 

“Correct,” Splinter said. Leo glanced up again to meet a look of approval, and relief coursed through him. “The police will also be investigating such disappearances. You will accordingly have to use stealth and caution, and avoid direct confrontation.” 

“Hai, sensei.” 

“You must also not forget your most important charge. These Kraang are of interest, particularly if they are the source of this... mutagen, but they are less significant than your charge.” 

“Of course,” Leo said swiftly. Protecting the girl was their main objective. He couldn’t believe he’d had it out of his mind, even for a second. 

“And you saw nothing out of the ordinary regarding her?” 

“No, sensei. She returned to the apartment by seven and didn’t leave. She must have a curfew on weeknights.” 

To Leo’s surprise, Splinter chuckled, settling back on his heels. “She does have a careful mother,” he said softly, as if to himself, and then added, “You have done well, Leonardo.” 

“Thank you, sensei,” Leo said as the praise settled in. Splinter appeared to be in an unusually expansive mood tonight; an ordinary report like this one wasn’t often the occasion for much more than acknowledgment. Cautiously, he ventured, “May I ask a question, sensei?” 

“You may.” 

Leo took a breath, and let out the question that had burned ever since they had first been permitted aboveground. “Who is she, sensei? The girl, she... why is she important?” 

“That is two questions,” Splinter noted, but not with disapproval. He tilted his head, amber eyes going distant. He was silent long enough that Leo thought he might refuse to answer altogether before lowering his muzzle. “She is my daughter.” 

“Your daughter,” Leo repeated. Of all the things his sensei might have said, he had somehow not expected that one. 

“Indeed,” said Splinter. His whiskers twitched. “Does that surprise you? I was once a man as other men, you know.” 

“Of course,” Leo said hastily. 

“Her mother... left,” Splinter said. He sounded distant, now, even sad, and Leo did not know what to do with that. “She had always longed for life in the city. My own father was too ill to be left. I followed, in time, but by then... Tang Shen had found another. Soon after, I was transformed, as you see me now. And so were you.” 

“Oh,” Leo managed, his mind whirling. Sensei had spoken very little of his life before. This was new. 

“Changed though I am, she is still my daughter.” Splinter’s tail twitched across the floor. “I will suffer no harm to come to her. Hence your charge.” 

“Hai, sensei.” 

He waited for another moment, until Splinter said, “You may go, Leonardo.” 

Leo bowed and took his leave, mind whirling. 

He could hardly imagine Master Splinter as a father, especially to a tiny, fragile human child. He would have been human himself then, but even so... it was hard to picture. 

Back in Leo’s own dimmest, most distant memories, he could remember being carried, close and warm against Splinter’s fur, and he had a blurred impression of coughing, curled up in Splinter’s own room, surrounded by the aroma of medicinal tea. The scent was familiar enough, the tea still brought out as a remedy against winter coughs and sniffles, but the gentle care seemed remote enough that Leo wasn’t quite sure it had ever really happened. He might have imagined it. For the most part, as far back as he could remember, their life was the discipline of the dojo and lessons and chores. Splinter called the four of them brothers, but he himself was Sensei, not Father. 

It explained a lot, that the girl was his daughter. It certainly explained his protectiveness. Leo wondered if she had any idea. 

Part of him envied her, but envy was... not a worthy emotion, so he did his best to put it aside.

 

#

 

Leo had said they’d divide into teams for the night, so they could continue protecting their charge as well as following up on Donnie’s lead. 

Well, April’s lead, really. She was the one who’d been busy tracking stories about missing people, and thought the unexplained disappearance of this scientist, Dr. Rockwell, might fit the pattern of Kraang interests, and she was the one who’d passed the information on to Donnie. He wasn’t about to tell his brothers that, though. 

Especially not Raph, who had just assumed he was in charge of their two-man team. Donnie followed because he didn’t particularly feel like arguing. He wished he’d spoken up sooner when he caught up to Raph punching his way through the lock, though. 

“Look, I have an electronic lock pick that can handle any lock,” Donnie hissed in annoyance. 

Raph shot him a smirk over his shoulder and made a fist. “Yeah? So can I.” 

Donnie eyed the now-battered door and frame distastefully. “You do realize my way leaves fewer traces?” 

Raph shrugged as he stalked into the room. “Whatever gets the job done... whoa. I don’t think anyone’s gonna care about the condition of the lock, Donnie.” 

Entering the space, Donnie had to admit Raph had a point. The place had been trashed: there were holes in the ceiling and the wall, the window was broken and boarded over, and furniture was overturned. The whole place looked a bit darker and drearier than he would have thought a lab would be, too. Frowning, Donnie made his way to the desk to look for any files that might tell them more. 

“What the hell’s he need something like this for?” Raph demanded. 

Donnie glanced up. His mouth twisted at the sight of the chair Raph was glaring at. Solid, dull metal, with visible restraints for both arms and legs. “I don’t know,” he replied. 

“Experimenting on animals or something?” 

“I don’t _know_ ,” Donnie repeated, irritated. 

“Well _something_ broke out of this cage.” 

Donnie looked up again and saw that Raph was right; there was a sturdy steel cage, large enough for a human to crouch in, and the cage’s door hung askew on its hinges. The back of his neck prickled. “What I read didn’t say anything about animal experiments,” he said carefully, “but maybe they left something out.” 

Raph was scowling. “Yeah, maybe.” He aimed a kick at the cage. The metal door clanged, making enough noise that Donnie winced. 

“Would you be quiet?” he whispered. Pointedly. 

Raph huffed but said nothing more. Donnie went back to searching the desk. Checking each drawer in turn, he found in the bottom left drawer a canister with a telltale sickly green glow. Donnie froze for a moment. “Mutagen,” he whispered hoarsely. 

“Guess this guy _was_ dealing with the Kraang,” Raph said, peering around Donnie’s shoulder. 

“I guess so.” Donnie lifted the canister out carefully. He’d still give a lot to know what Rockwell had been doing with the stuff. Setting the canister on the desk, he peered into the drawer to see if there was anything else interesting. 

Behind him, he heard a clang and a crash. Donnie whirled, reaching for his bo, and found Raph already shoving a man in a white lab coat against the wall. “Look what I found sneaking around,” he growled. 

“Me?” The man gasped. “This is my lab! Who are _you_? Or should I say, _what_?” 

Raph growled audibly. The man paled, staring at them with wide eyes. With a sinking heart, Donnie realized this must be Dr. Rockwell’s partner, Dr. Falco.

 

#

 

It was already past dark by the time Miwa got to the restaurant, and she was already in a terrible mood, bad enough that when she stalked down the street, people just seemed to move out of her way. Detention, of all things, just because she’d been caught not paying attention in social studies. Why did her teacher have to be such a hardass, anyway? And who cared about the War of 1812? To make matters worse, now she was going to have to explain to Mom why she’d had detention, and she’d probably have to explain again to Dad later. Assuming he bothered to show up at home before midnight. 

Everything _sucked_ lately, and even April was busy fiddling around with some internet stuff that she wouldn’t talk about, like Miwa hadn’t guessed April was talking to her turtle rescuers. Miwa really should just stop beating around the bush and tell April that she knew, but even that was tricky when April was always buried in her stuff the last few days. 

She shoved open the door to the restaurant, wishing she could be anywhere else, but there would be hell to pay if she didn’t show up where she was expected, so— 

As the bell over her head tinkled cheerily, Miwa was first caught by surprise that there were strangers behind the counter with Murakami-san. 

The second was shock as one of the strangers knocked Murakami-san to the floor, and he fell with a startled little cry. 

“Please! Stop!” Mom cried. “He’s blind, please don’t hurt us!” 

Miwa looked to her right, and white-hot rage shook her to the roots. Another guy had grabbed her mom, had both of Tang Shen’s arms twisted behind her back. He was a big man, too, taller and broader than Dad, a meat-mountain of a guy in a black leather vest with a purple dragon curling across it. 

One of the guys behind the counter laughed, and her attention snapped back to him. Medium height, lean and skinny. He said, “We’ll be the ones doing the harming, if you people don’t pay up.” Behind him, his comrade kicked Murakami-san, who groaned. 

“Please, there’s nothing here for you,” Mom called out, even though the big guy yanked on her arms. 

“No?” His lips curled. “Who’s the girl? Wouldn’t want anything to happen to her, right?” 

Tang Shen’s eyes darted to the side. “Miwa, run!” 

Miwa was already moving, but not toward the door. She ran toward the big guy holding her mother instead. She wasn’t armed, since she couldn’t carry weapons at school, but she had her feet and her fists and her dad’s training, and she launched a high kick. She hit the guy in the shoulder. Not a great spot, but it drove him back a foot. With a snarl, he flung her mother to the ground and turned to face Miwa. 

Mom made a strangled sound as she landed on the floor. Miwa wanted to run to her, but she backed into a defensive position instead, where she could see all three of them. There was the big guy, and the skinny one who’d been doing the talking (he was now leaping over the counter), and the third one, who was maybe deciding to stop beating up a middle-aged blind chef and come at her with the other two. 

Not great odds, but fury put a sneer on Miwa’s face and kept her feet moving. She dodged the big guy’s fist — telegraphed swing, much too slow — and snapped a kick at his knee. He yelped but didn’t go down. Talker was charging toward her now; she raised her arm to block his first blow, but his second caught her in the side. 

A crash, and two figures hurtled through the door. 

For a few seconds, things happened much too quickly. Something broad and green barreled into Talker and sent him flying into the big guy, and then planted itself between her and the action. She’d caught just a glimpse of a second figure, who’d gone chasing after the guy who’d kicked Murakami-san. Well, good. He deserved it. She darted to the side so she could get around her obstacle and get at the big guy again. 

“Stay back!” someone shouted. The green wall in front of her shifted and got in front of her again. 

It was _them_ , she realized. April’s turtle rescuers. Showing up to the rescue again. 

Which meant that they must have been the ones following her. As if that didn’t make her furious enough, now they were standing between her and the guy who’d hurt her mom. 

“Get out of my way!” she shouted back, and threw herself into a roll to the side. Big Guy and Talker were both on their feet, facing off with her would-be rescuer: a walking turtle in a blue mask. She kicked Big Guy in the knee again, and this time he screamed and crumpled to the floor. The turtle took advantage of the confusion to hit Talker with an oversized green fist. Miwa smirked and kicked Big Guy in the side, just for good measure. Another turtle, this one in an orange mask, was going after his target with a flurry of quick kicks and punches. She couldn’t see Murakami-san, he was probably still down behind the counter, but Mom was struggling to her knees, holding one arm against her chest. 

“Mom!” Miwa glanced back over her shoulder. Blue knocked Talker flat with a spinning kick. He seemed to be doing fine, and the big one was still groaning on the floor, so she crossed the few steps to her mother and helped her up. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m all right, it’s just my wrist,” Mom said, but there was a pinched look around her mouth. As Miwa put her arm around her shoulders and helped her to her feet, she looked up and her eyes went wide. 

“Yokai...” she breathed. 

Blue had drawn a sword, steel glinting, and had it aimed at Big Guy’s throat. “Stay down,” he said, and both of his downed opponents seemed to think better of getting up. His eyes were creepy, solid white, no pupil or iris visible. The third gang member had dropped as well, Miwa saw, and Orange was now crouching on the counter like a grinning gargoyle, eyes equally dead-white. She flinched at the sight of them. Behind the counter, Murakami-san struggled to his feet. 

“Dude,” Orange said. “We gotta get outta here.” 

Blue’s flat white gaze swung from one opponent to another. “But first, these guys leave. And don’t come back. This place is off limits.” 

“Okay,” Talker muttered. “We’re gone. Just let us go.” 

Blue nodded sharply, and sheathed his weapon. At that, the three gang members dragged themselves off the floor and toward the door, with resentful looks over their shoulders. The big one was limping and had a hand pressed to his side, Miwa saw with some satisfaction. Orange sprang off the counter to follow them. 

“Wait!” Tang Shen cried. 

Blue threw her a startled backward look. When he blinked, his eyes turned from that flat white to normal blue eyes. Miwa started, and then stared as her mother took a few steps forward and said, “Is it you?” 

Blue frowned, looking baffled. Her mother said, “Please, you have to tell Yoshi—” 

“We have to _go_ ,” said Orange, and then both of the turtles darted through the door and were gone. 

Miwa wanted to run after them. From the way her mother reached out a hand, maybe she did, too. But then she winced and pulled her right arm back. Her wrist was already bruised and swelling. Murakami-san groaned, rubbing his head with one hand and leaning heavily on the counter with the other. 

Miwa bit her lip, realizing that she couldn’t just leave them there alone. Later, she promised herself. If the turtle-people were still following her, she’d take it up with them later.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picking up right where we left off last chapter...

"Dude," Mikey whispered. "What was that about?"

"I don't know," Leo whispered back, hunching into the shadows and scanning their surroundings. They'd doubled back to make sure no one, especially the girl, had followed them, and only after getting some idea of where the gang members had gone.

"That lady knew Sensei's name, Leo!"

"I know." The girl was Sensei's daughter, which meant her mother was — had been — Sensei's wife. But how did she _know_? She'd acted like she knew where they came from. More, she'd acted like she _recognized_ them. Leo's mind raced, trying to guess what she could possibly know. The girl might have seen them, when they'd helped her before. But she didn't know anything about them, not really. How could her mother have guessed? She couldn't have been talking to Sensei herself — no, she'd said _tell Yoshi_.

"Oh man," Mikey mumbled, softly. "They got a good look at us that time, bro."

"I know," Leo whispered again. Mistake, mistake, mistake. Too many mistakes. He shouldn't have divided up his team, even though it had seemed like such a good idea at the time, more efficient. And he should have found a way to cut the lights before charging in there, but they hadn't had much time, and Donnie was the best with electronics.

Mistakes. Too many of them. At least Sensei's daughter hadn't been hurt. But her mother had, and maybe Sensei wouldn't be too happy about that, either.

"I hope Raph and Donnie are doing better than we are," Mikey whispered.

#

"Can you believe that guy," Raph muttered as they left the lab.

Donnie grimaced. At least he'd managed to palm a flash drive from the office while Raph distracted Dr. Falco by terrifying him, in typical Raph fashion. "He said Rockwell had gotten the mutagen from some corporate type, and that's all he knew," Donnie reminded him.

Raph's face was still scrunched up into a scowl. "I don't trust him."

Donnie sighed. "Is there any particular reason—"

"Can't figure out why _you_ do," Raph muttered.

"I never said I trusted him."

"You're acting like he told us the truth."

Donnie was silent for a moment, thinking back over the conversation. "Dr. Falco was obviously afraid of you," he said slowly. Of both of them, really, but Raph had been the one up in the man's face.

"Don't mean he can't lie. And _something_ broke out of that cage and trashed the place."

"Maybe the Kraang—" Donnie began, and then stopped. "Did you hear something?"

"Hear what?"

Above them in the alley, something screeched and dropped onto Raph, who fell to the ground with a grunt. Donnie had his bo in his hands immediately, but he didn't have a clear attack on whatever Raph was grappling with. Something hairy and long-armed, something Donnie couldn't get a good look at.

Raph, snarling, managed to kick himself free, and the thing jumped to top of a dumpster, crouching and snarling.

A monkey, Donnie realized. Oversized — not a chimpanzee, he didn't think, and definitely not a gorilla, but clearly some kind of primate, with huge staring eyes and bared teeth.

Raph was already shouting at it as he hauled himself off the ground. "Come back over here, you flea-bitten excuse for an ape —"

The creature screamed in answer and leaped off the dumpster. Donnie managed to hit it as it jumped, throwing off its trajectory, and it turned on him with a howl. He tried to dodge, but it was ahead of him, slamming him with one huge hairy fist, and then another, yanking his bo out of his grasp when he made to jab at it. It was fast, too fast, and never there when he tried to hit it himself.

Then Raph leapt onto the monkey from behind, shouting, and Donnie had the brief, unwelcome thought that they were doing really _terribly_ at stealth tonight. The monkey shook Raph off and whirled to face him, screeching. Raph didn't seem to be doing a great deal better than Donnie had — he was taking a lot of hits, the monkey was both stronger than it looked and amazingly agile.

Donnie's own head was swimming, his ears ringing, and it took him a second to steady himself and find his bo again. He rolled to the side as Raph and the monkey came barreling down the center of the alley and came up with the bo in his hands. Raph was still snarling insults and obscenities; he sounded winded, but he still punched and kicked with his usual force, even though he missed better than half the time, the monkey bending and weaving out of the way. _How_ was it that fast?

Donnie slammed the staff into the monkey's back, in what he hoped fervently was the vicinity of its kidney. It wasn't the solid blow he'd hoped for, since the thing _still_ managed to twist out of the way.

That was enough to give Raph an opportunity, though, and he seized it, spinning around to hit the monkey with a solid kick that sent it crashing into the dumpster. Raph made to follow it, but slumped, listing to the side.

"What's wrong?" Donnie demanded, running over. His eyes widened at the sight of the gash in Raph's thigh. "You're bleeding."

"Huh? Oh. Guess the hairy little shit clawed me or something." Raph stumbled. Donnie immediately reached out to support his brother, casting a wary eye at the dumpster. The monkey was rustling and thumping around inside.

"We have to get out of here," he said.

"The hell? No way!" Raph snapped. "I'm not running away from that overgrown flea-picker."

"You're not running anywhere on that leg," Donnie snapped back. His head still throbbed. He figured there was a good chance one or both of them were concussed, not to mention bruised and bleeding from a handful of minor cuts, in addition to the long cut on Raph's leg, which was oozing at a rate that Donnie did not like at all. He had to get the bleeding stopped, but he couldn't very well do that while fighting off the monkey. There wasn't a sewer entrance in this alley, and he didn't like the thought of taking Raph's open wound through all those tunnels. They were a long way from the lair.

The monkey's head poked out of the dumpster. Its eyes were red and bulging. Its lips pulled back from its teeth. It started to move.

" _Come on_ ," Donnie barked, and charged for the end of the alley, dragging Raph with him. Desperation lent him the strength to haul Raph's stumbling bulk along. He looked behind them and saw the monkey tearing after them in an odd, loping gait, and ran faster. Another look back, and he saw the monkey hesitate, shrinking back from the sound of traffic. It slowed and then stopped, shoulders hunching, and finally scuttled away into the darkness of the alley.

Good. Great. But the human activity on the street wasn't any better for them. Donnie gritted his teeth and dragged Raph into the shadows under a fire escape. They were, he hoped, not visible from the street or the sidewalk, if just barely.

"Great," Raph panted. "What's the plan now, genius?"

Donnie rolled his eyes at the sarcasm and yanked his mask off, wadding it up so he could apply pressure to the wound. "Just let me think." There was a manhole a block or so away, if he remembered right, but he'd still have to try to keep the pressure on the wound and keep it clean the whole way back to the lair, which was nearly three miles.

Or, if he could get Raph up the fire escape, he could try to staunch the bleeding on the roof.

The thought flitted through his head that April didn't live far from here. Only about half a mile. April probably had antiseptics and clean gauze, too.

Raph's eyes were more than half shut. Donnie jabbed him in the shoulder, and the return growl was half-hearted.

"Can you get up the fire escape?" Donnie asked. "I've got an idea."

#

"Miwa," Mom whispered, catching her arm with her good hand.

"What?" Miwa kept the ice pack pressed to her mother's wrist. It was probably broken. Murakami-san just had some bruises and was shaken up, but she was going to have to take Mom in for an x-ray. She'd probably have to get a cast or something. Dad was going to be furious.

"Don't tell your father about the yokai."

Miwa stared at her mother in shock, but Tang Shen's face was resolute, her eyebrows drawn down and her mouth firm. "What? Why not?"

Mom's eyes shifted to the side and focused back on her. "He will take it badly."

"You got hurt! Of course he's going to be mad."

"It was those Purple Dragons who hurt me, not the yokai," Mom countered. "They only helped us."

Miwa stuck out her lower lip. Her jaw tightened. "They aren't really spirits," she said. "They're just some kind of... freaky mutant things."

"Be that as it may. They have done us no harm."

Miwa made a face, but she had to admit that was true, more or less. They just always showed up when something was going wrong. If she had to have some kind of guardian spirits, she wasn't sure why they had to be big weirdo turtle things. "Why, though?"

Mom's mouth twisted. "Let your father take out his... protective feelings on the gang, if he must. They are the correct target, at least."

Miwa nodded, reluctantly. There was one more thing nagging at her, though: "Mom, who's Yoshi?"

Her mother took in a quick breath, and her eyes darted away again. She had to be hiding something. Miwa didn't want to let this go. "Because I heard you tell them to tell Yoshi something. Tell Yoshi what? And who's Yoshi? And... Mom, do you..." She licked her lips, hardly able to believe she was about to say this. "Have you _seen_ them before?"

Her mother closed her eyes and her mouth pulled tight together. After a moment, she whispered, "I am not sure."

"But you have to—"

"Tang Shen?" Murakami-san called from the doorway. "Miwa-chan? The taxi is here."

Miwa blew out a breath and glared at her mother. Tang Shen met her eyes for a long moment and then sighed. "Later," she whispered.

It wasn't enough. Miwa was getting sick of secrets and waiting for people to come clean. But she nodded and helped her mother up.

#

Of all the things April thought might happen on her first evening home alone in weeks, having Donatello and his brother turn up at her window was not one of them.

She hadn't actually seen Donnie since the night he and his brothers had rescued her. He looked the same as she remembered, although up close she was reminded that he didn't smell quite like a human being.

Also, there was a tight set to his mouth she hadn't seen before, and he wasn't wearing his purple mask. Without it, his eyes looked larger and darker.

"Donnie, what are you doing here?" April asked, baffled, and then added, "Do you need something?"

"Sorry, April, but I wasn't sure where else to go. Your place is a lot closer than the lair. Can, er..." His eyes darted to the side. "Can we come in?"

"Sure." April stepped back from the window to let Donnie enter. She laughed nervously. "It's a good thing my dad's working late, he's not home yet."

"I'm so sorry," Donnie said, extending a hand outside the window to help his stocky, green-eyed brother — Raphael, she remembered. "We won't be long."

Raphael ignored the hand, leaning instead on the windowsill to balance himself as he slung a leg into the apartment. His mask was missing, too, and April gasped as she saw the red and purple fabric wrapped around a long cut in his left thigh.

"This?" Raphael growled at Donnie. "This was your great plan?"

Donnie flinched, but said to April, "I got the bleeding stopped. Mostly. Do you have a first aid kid? Needle and thread?"

"I... I think so." April scurried toward the bathroom to drag out the neat white box from under the sink. She bit her lip, hoping that they weren't leaving a trail of blood out in the other room. "Here you go," she said, emerging from the bathroom with the box.

"Thanks." Donnie pointed into the bathroom. Raphael limped in without saying a word and sank down onto the closed toilet. Donnie continued talking even as he popped the first aid kit open. "So your dad is okay with you staying home alone again?"

April forced a laugh. "It took a little persuading, but yeah. Nothing's happened since that night, so... he's easing up a little. He still worries, though."

"Well, of course he does. This looks great, April, thanks, I just..." Donnie looked up, brown eyes huge and earnest. "I just didn't feel good about hauling Raph's open wound through the sewers. I'm sorry to put you out."

"It's okay," April said, with a glance at Raphael. He really didn't look good; he was sagging where he sat, even though he was still glaring at Donnie, and both the red and purple bandanas were stained the darker crimson and browns of dried blood. "You guys saved me, I'm glad I could help."

"Thanks," Raphael mumbled, with a quick sideways look at her.

"I need to clean out the wound and then stitch it," Donnie said. "Do you have a gas stove? Could you sterilize this needle for me?"

"Sure." April was a little relieved to miss the wound-cleaning, which was probably going to be messy. "Just take whatever you need from the kit. Do you want me to get you some ice, too?"

"That would be great, thanks."

It took a few minutes to sterilize the needle properly. As April came back toward the bathroom, an ice pack in her other hand, she heard the brothers' voices drift down the hall toward her.

"Thought you weren't supposed to be in contact with this girl any more, Donnie."

"It's just online chat," Donnie said, voice muffled. After a moment, he added, "She's helped out a lot. She gave us the lead to Dr. Falco's lab."

Raphael made a noise in his throat. "Yeah, great lead."

"Well, he did have mutagen." Another moment of near-silence; April, stopped in her tracks, heard someone hiss. "Sorry," Donnie said.

"Just get it clean and get it over with."

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Sensei told you not to talk to her."

There was a short pause. "Are you going to tell him? Or Leo?"

"Are you going to give me a reason not to?"

"She's helped us, and it's totally harmless to keep in touch. It's advantageous, in fact, to make sure the Kraang aren't coming after her again."

"Hmm. Not bad, but keep going."

"It was a dumb order anyway? You hate rules?"

Raphael snorted. "You got an explanation for how you stitched me up?"

"We stole a first aid kit? Or we just ease into the lair quietly and pretend we patched you up in the infirmary, like usual. Also I'm never going anywhere without _our_ first aid kit again."

Another snort. April bit her lip, listening, her heart pounding. "All right," Raphael finally said. "I won't say anything. At least not right away. But you owe me, Donnie."

"Owe you? I'm patching you up, that doesn't make us even?"

"Not a chance," Raphael said, but he was laughing, and April figured it was safe to interrupt now.

"Here you go," she said, quickly looking away from the open wound.

"Thanks, April," said Donnie with a smile. "You can turn around if you want, this won't take long."

"So what happened?" she asked, fixing her eyes on the wall.

They explained as Donnie worked, and though April was a little horrified at the description of the lab, and the monkey attack, her attention was caught by the mutagen. "What were they using it for?"

"Don't know," Donnie said, "but I grabbed a flash drive, so we'll take a look and see."

"Nice," said Raphael in appreciation.

"Can I see?" April asked eagerly.

"I'm probably going to have to decrypt the drive, but I can send you files and you can help me analyze them... I mean, if you want?"

April looked down and found Donnie looking up at her, with a sort of shy, hopeful look. She beamed back. "Yeah, of course!"

She could almost feel his delight, and Raphael's amusement as he poked his brother in the shoulder. "No wonder you've been chatting. You two are like peas in a pod."

Donnie's cheeks darkened. "I would hardly go that far," he muttered, practically radiating embarrassment.

April just laughed. "I don't mind," she said. She didn't; Donnie might be one of the strangest people she'd met, but he was also probably the smartest and most interesting.

And he'd saved her. That counted for a lot. She was glad he and his brother had come to her for help, messy wound and all.

She made Donnie promise to send her whatever he could get off the flash drive, and smiled to herself when he stammered his reply, not quite meeting her eyes as the two brothers headed back out the window.


	8. Chapter 8

"You must not leave her unguarded," Splinter said, once the whole debacle of the previous night had been told, and their faults and mistakes had been laid out in clinical order.

"But, Sensei," Leo said, and stopped. She'd seen him and Mikey, there was no hiding it this time. He'd had to admit that, even if he'd held back how the woman had spoken to him. She could handle herself a bit, that much was clear, so wouldn't it be best to lie low for a while? Especially since Raph was down for at least a few days, grumbling and fretful, and Mikey liked to take care of whoever got laid up (which often involved more fussing and hovering and being fed chicken soup than anyone really had the patience for). Leo could try to pry him away, but he'd be distracted and mopey the whole time.

"Go alone, if you must," Splinter said.

Leo bowed his head. That was the way it would have to be, wasn't it? Donnie was already burying himself in that data he'd stolen from Falco's lab. With Splinter's permission, even. Leo couldn't really blame either of them. It was the one tangible thing they'd gained the whole evening, after all. He just felt a surge of frustration that it was once again Donnie's plan, and Donnie's effort, that had succeeded. It smarted that Leo hadn't been able to think of a way to intervene and help the girl and her mother without revealing himself and Mikey in the process. "What about the Purple Dragons, Sensei?"

"See to your charge." Splinter's tail lashed once. Leo eyed it warily. They'd all been caught off guard by a tail attack in practice more than once. "Leave the gang members to me."

Leo blinked at that, thinking of what his master would do to those hapless Purple Dragons. He almost felt sorry for the. But he knew better than to question him when Splinter took that tone. "Hai, sensei," he said, and rose when Splinter nodded. It would be a long night, guarding their charge by himself.

#

"You promised. Later, you said." Miwa's eyes were wide, intent. Not quite begging. Tang Shen was proud, for a second, that she'd raised a daughter who didn't wheedle and whine like so many girls in this country.

She sipped her tea, buying herself a moment to think. When she looked up, Miwa was still watching her, tracking her every movement. Her mouth curled down; she was expecting Shen to put her off.

Tang Shen sighed and set down the cup. She could say a certain amount, at least, if not all of it. She had not quite the heart to go over the whole sordid, bloody history of Saki's family, and Yoshi's. Besides that, there were, perhaps, things a girl did not need to know about her mother. And as for her true parentage — well, Yoshi, for all his gifts, had not been the man who changed Miwa's diapers and comforted her small hurts, over the years. Tang Shen would not break Saki's heart by giving another the title of father. So she said, "Hamato Yoshi is an old friend."

Miwa blinked. Her eyes narrowed as she digested this information. "You mean back in Japan."

"Yes." Deliberately, Tang Shen picked up her cup and sipped again. Miwa bit her lip but waited until Shen set the cup down again. "He was a good friend to me, when I was young, and he and Saki were like brothers." She still thought of them as brothers, in truth, but she and Saki had discussed that more than enough.

Miwa's eyes flew wide again. "But why—"

"They quarreled." Tang Shen kept her voice even.

Miwa frowned and fiddled with a lock of her hair. "What about?"

Tang Shen sighed. "Over many things. Tradition. Obligation. It was many years ago, and I don't remember everything they fought over." Herself, eventually, but she had hardly been the only thing. "I left for a time. I thought I was making it worse. I hoped they might make amends with each other, but when I returned—" with her baby in her arms— "they had come to consider each other as enemies."

"But why?" Miwa asked, still frowning.

"You would have to ask your father." Habit brought the word to her lips without any flinch to betray her. "I can guarantee he will be furious to hear Yoshi's name, and his answer may not satisfy you."

Miwa's lip curled. She knew how Saki ranted when he was in a temper. "Okay, fine, so the two of them fought. What about you?"

Tang Shen took a deep breath. "As for me..." _I did not listen to the yokai_ , she thought, with a pang of guilt. "I wanted to go away. I wanted to live in the city, somewhere modern, somewhere far away from our little rural province. Saki came with me. Yoshi stayed behind."

"So why would you ask those turtle freaks about him?"

"You know I don't like you using that word," Shen said firmly.

Miwa sighed and rolled her eyes. "They're not really spirits, Mom."

"And are you an expert on spirits, my child?"

" _Mom_."

"Have it your way." Tang Shen sat back with a wave of her hand. "If they are not spirits, then they are people, and people who have helped you twice. I still don't like that word." Whatever these beings were, they had done her and hers no harm, no matter what Saki said. She held to that.

"Fiiiine," Miwa sighed. "Turtle _people_ , whatever. You still didn't answer the question. Why would they have anything to do with Yoshi?"

Tang Shen's mind raced as she tried to come up with some reasonable explanation. "Yoshi believed in such things." A lie — a partial one, at least, but one that Miwa could not prove or disprove. "You think they are not spirits, but if they were, an old friend might have sent them."

Miwa scowled, obviously not convinced. She stuck her lower lip out and crossed her arms, slouching in her chair. Tang Shen had to bite back the urge to tell her to sit up straight. This was not the time.

"Does this have something to do with ninjas?" Miwa said suddenly.

Tang Shen had to fight to keep her face neutral. "Why should it?" she asked carefully.

"That's not a _no_."

"You haven't answered the question," Tang Shen replied. Her heart was in her throat. Miwa knew her father was a martial arts master, yes, but not like this.

"Well, you haven't answered mine!" Miwa snapped, springing out of her chair.

"I told you who Yoshi is!"

"Maybe, but you're not telling me everything, and that thing about him maybe sending spirits just sounds like _bullshit_ , Mom!"

" _Miwa_."

Miwa ignored her warning, flinging her arms out. "My friend almost got kidnapped, Dad's been weird ever since, and these _freaky_ green dudes keep showing up, and it seems like you know a lot more than you're saying. So fine, keep me in the dark, whatever, but I'm not going to sit here and listen to this crap." She whirled and started for the door.

"Miwa!" Tang Shen called, desperately. Her daughter hesitated, breaking stride, though she did not turn. Tang Shen took advantage to say, "You are asking about things long, long past, things better left behind."

Miwa glanced over her shoulder. "No offense, mom? But if turtle spirits or turtle people or whatever are showing up and you think they have something to do with your old friend? I don't think they're so much in the past." She started forward again.

"Where do you think you're going?" Tang Shen cried, and regretted the words immediately when Miwa tossed her head. She stood stiff and proud, reminding Tang Shen so much of her father —of _both_ her fathers, stubborn, proud, hotheaded men that they were.

"Out," Miwa said. "Maybe I'll see what Dad says."

And then she was gone, slamming the door behind her.

#

What she'd said was a bluff, because Miwa had no idea where her father was. She could always drop by the dojo, but Bradford was an ass. He wouldn't know anything and would just smile one of those smarmy white-boy smiles at her, and most of his students weren't much better, just rich frat boys.

She could go down the street to the coffee shop and just hang out there for a while. Or she could go see April and tell her what happened.

Just the idea of being around people made her want to hit something, though. Ordinary people with their cheerful talkative normal lives, who didn't have mythical green bodyguards, who would never understand her. Even April had been keeping secrets from Miwa, just like her parents. April would want to know what had happened — that Miwa had seen the turtles again.

Then again, maybe she _already_ knew, since she was probably talking to them anyway.

The only thing for it was to get away from people altogether, so Miwa climbed a fire escape instead. The building two over from hers had a little rooftop garden. She could see it from her window, but she never saw anybody there. When she got there, she found it looking neglected, some of the plants drooping and others scraggly and overgrown, but it was quiet, so she dropped down into the folding chair someone had put up there.

She'd hardly had time to get into a properly good sulk (Mom was hiding things from her, Dad was never home any more, he was probably out hunting down gang members even while she sat there, leaving her to do all the things around their home that required two hands, like she was just some kind of parental _servant_ , God) when she got one of those prickling sensations that said maybe she wasn't alone.

Fuck it all, anyway. The hell with everyone skulking around and lying and hiding things and acting like she should just smile and be okay with not knowing what the hell was going on. Miwa heaved a sigh and said loudly into the night, "I know you're out there."

Silence. Down on the street, car horns honked, but on the roof, everything seemed still. It might be a startled kind of stillness, or maybe she was just making it up. Miwa kicked idly at one of the potted shrubs and took a chance. "I said, I know you're there. You might as well come out. I'm getting tired of you following me."

More silence. Then he stepped out from behind a screen of plants. It was the one in the blue mask, she thought. He was shorter than she'd remembered, a little shorter than she was. In the dark, he could have been almost anyone — well, anyone impressively muscular, at least — until you realized that he blended in with the greenery a little too well, or got a glimpse of the leather harness he wore, or saw that his hands were massive and yet only had three fingers. "Finally," she said, looking at her fingernails and pretending to be bored, instead of fascinated by his strange anatomy.

"I wondered if you knew we were there," he said.

Miwa scoffed, though she hadn't been _sure_ , she'd just suspected. "Of course I did. I'm not a dumbass. What are you doing tailing me all over, anyway?"

It took a moment before he said, "Call it an assignment?"

"Assignment from who?" She folded her arms across her chest, frowning at him.

"My master," he said without hesitating.

Yeah, that wasn't creepy or anything. "Your master have a name?"

There was another pause before he said, "We call him Master Splinter."

Miwa pursed her lips. "Does he have any other names?"

"He used to be called Hamato Yoshi."

She couldn't even be surprised any more. It all came back to this guy, whoever he was. It didn't really make anything make any more sense, though. Miwa blew out a breath. To cover her whirling thoughts, she said, "How come you have a master, anyway?"

He crossed his arms and stepped forward, letting the light fall more clearly over the hump of his shell. "You've seen us. Why do you think?"

Miwa arched an eyebrow. "You tell me."

His wide mouth tightened into a line, and he shrugged. "He found us when we were small. Taught us everything we knew. How many others wouldn't have turned us over to a lab or a zoo or something?"

He had a point there. Restless, Miwa pulled herself out of the chair and paced closer, wanting to get a better look at him. He stiffened at her approach but didn't move, didn't bolt or draw a weapon. "Nice swords," she remarked, though she could only see the hilt. "You know how to use them?"

His eyes narrowed. "Yes."

"You didn't draw them the other day," she pointed out.

"I didn't need to. Those guys were just..." His eyes shifted.

"Worthless punks?" Miwa suggested.

His shoulders rippled when he shrugged. "Yeah."

She snickered. "I probably could have handled them." She watched intently for his reaction, and when she saw his eyes flicker, she added, "I can take care of myself, you know."

"Like I said, it's an assignment."

Her mouth curled. "Why, though? What's so special about me?"

His eyes shifted. "I shouldn't even be talking to you." He started to move, to slide back into the shadow.

"Wait," Miwa blurted. "Do _you_ have a name?"

He hesitated, tensing, and she was tempted to reach out and grab his arm, just to see how real he felt. "Leonardo," he said finally.

"Leonardo," she drawled, and did it: put out her hand, deliberately slow, and laid it on his arm. He stiffened even more, but he didn't block her grip, just watched her. His skin was cool to the touch, a little rough, but not unpleasant, and solid with muscle and bone underneath. His eyes held hers warily, like he thought she was going to jerk away and scream or something. Instead she said, "How come you're out here alone?"

He blinked. "The others are... occupied."

"Huh," she said, and let her hand drop.

"What should I call you?" he asked.

"What, you don't know everything about me?" she said with a smirk.

"I highly doubt it."

"My friends call me Harmony," she said. In her pocket, her phone buzzed. Probably one of her parents texting her. "And I'm going back now," she said, taking a couple of lazy steps backward. Her anger had dissipated, somehow, and Mom was probably frantic. Dad would be pissed that she'd left Mom at home alone. "So you can go off wherever it is you go — where _is_ that, by the way?"

He didn't even bother to answer that one, just watched her move. She had to turn around so she wouldn't trip over a potted plant — that wouldn't make a very cool exit — and when she glanced over her shoulder, he'd disappeared.

She didn't think he'd gone, though.

#

"Not tonight, Xever," Saki said firmly.

"I was hoping I could persuade you, my friend," Xever said, lounging in his chair as usual. "It is a peculiar job tonight, and we might benefit from your skills."

He should not. Not with Tang Shen at home, injured, but... "What sort of peculiar?" Saki asked in spite of himself.

Xever cast him a sly smile. "A scientist wishes us to recover his lab animal. Some sort of experimental ape. Careless of him to let the thing escape, but he's offering good money."

Saki shook his head. This did not sound like his kind of job. Not tonight. "I'll pass."

Xever shrugged. "I thought you might say that. And how is your lady?"

"She's strong. She'll heal." It was a minor enough injury, to tell the truth, but the thought that anyone had dared to lay a hand on her at all still burned in Saki's gut. Those good-for-nothing Purple Dragons, demanding protection money; he'd already tracked down a couple of them and informed them bluntly that they were to leave Tang Shen and Murakami strictly alone. "I should return home, however."

"Such a homebody you've become," Xever drawled, smirking.

Saki did not answer, though his lips thinned in displeasure. He acknowledged the other man with a curt nod and departed.

He had been a poor enough husband in recent days, after all. He had seen Shen for only passing moments, and he had nothing to show for it. No sign of Yoshi or his creatures, and Shen herself hurt. It was fortunate Miwa had been there to help her, but protecting Tang Shen and seeing to her injuries was not Miwa's responsibility; it was Saki's.

Pride swelled in his chest regardless. Miwa had handled everything beautifully, and if not for her, the attackers might have done more harm. She would have made a splendid _kunoichi_. It was not the first time he had thought as much; Miwa was quick, clever, bold, and confident. Saki's training for her had focused on self-defense rather than the subtler arts of the ninja, but he had no doubt she had the wit and poise for it. Shen would not hear of it, of course. She had agreed that a young woman growing up in the city ought to be able to protect herself, but beyond that she would not permit them to go, saying _I thought we came here to leave the past behind, Saki_.

That was true. And yet, Saki had grown up in a ninja clan himself, and could not help seeing Miwa in that light. He could not have been more proud if she had been his own daughter. But no— she might be Yoshi's be blood, but Saki had had the raising and the training of her. In every way that mattered, she _was_ his daughter.

He had seen too little of her in recent days, too, fleeting moments in the morning before she left for school, in the evening before bed. He must be a better father as well as a better husband. No matter what Yoshi, hiding away in the darkness somewhere, intended.

**Author's Note:**

> Possibly (probably?) more to come, as I get more ideas.


End file.
